A Pocket Full of Stars
by Erithe
Summary: Librarian Melori Enara has spent her entire life hiding behind a carefully crafted mask. Now, with the destruction of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, she has a chance to prove her worth to the Inquisition and to herself. Original Character / not the Inquisitor.
1. Chapter 1

_Ask me no more: thy fate and mine are seal'd:  
I strove against the stream and all in vain:  
Let the great river take me to the main:  
No more, dear love, for at a touch I yield;  
Ask me no more.  
_

~ Alfred, Lord Tennyson

.

* * *

High in the Frostbacks, tucked in a cavern amid the mountains and snow, a group of scribes bent over their desks, pens scratching as they copied documents into bound books. Braziers set between the desks kept inks from freezing and fingers warm as they worked, occasionally stopping for a hot cup of tea or a bit of conversation with their fellows. As each book was completed, a Chantry acolyte would go between the various chambers and collect them, taking them to the main library in the back of the tunnels where the archivists waited to review and catalog the meticulously compiled volumes.

Each archivist supported a small group of librarians and researchers who researched and investigated lost knowledge, worked to preserve the older books, and who brought new work in for the scribes. In the old mountain vaults behind the Temple of Sacred Ashes, the work was mainly geared toward topics of interest to the Chantry: works regarding Andraste, books on faith, and church histories took precedence. It was good work, if you had the skill for it, and almost always interesting. Now, with the Conclave in the Temple proper, the archives seemed especially chaotic, everywhere except in a small room at the back of the main library where a young elf was rebinding a very special volume of writings.

She dipped her pen into the ink well on her desk and wrote in swift, fluid lines along the top of the manuscript, _"The Urn of Sacred Ashes: The Collected Works of Brother Ferdinand Genitivi_." The crisp black lines against the thick, creamy vellum brought a smile to her lips and she summoned a bit of heat to dry the ink properly, blowing hot air gently across the page. She reached for the gold leaf next and began the slow, methodical process of edging the crisp black lines with a gleam. This was the sort of work that took hours and often left her stiff and sore the next day, and, normally, she wouldn't be taking this much care with a compilation of her mentor's work. This book, however, was meant as a gift to the Divine Justinia herself, and Melori was determined to prove her late mentor proud with a truly worthy addition to the Chantry library in Orlais.

The main title was finished around the time one of the acolytes poked a head into her small room to inform her that the midday meal was ready in the dining hall. She smiled and thanked him, then stretched, letting her joints pop and flex before rising to make her way along the corridor. Around her, the other librarians, archivists, and scribes all murmured about the Conclave in the nearby valley. She let their words wash over her, but did not join them ... not that they would wish her to do so. They tolerated her because she had been Genitivi's student and because she now worked with the revered mother in charge of protecting his legacy. Elves, even those with her knowledge and skill, were expected to keep to their place and not interfere, which was fine with Melori. There were things she did not wish to share and it helped to keep a secret if you never spoke to anyone.

The corridor to the dining hall lead to the upper levels along an open gallery lined with tall, narrow windows that offered a lovely view of the snowy mountains and the Temple itself, tall and imposing against the sky. She paused and smiled, remembering exploring the space before it's renovations and listening to Brother Genitivi's excited ramblings when he had first shown her the various spaces and explained what it meant and why it was so important. "This is where the our Lady was laid to rest," he had explained that first day to his young apprentice and the Templar who followed after them. "I never dreamed I would be alive to record this, my girl, but here we are!"

His excitement had been infectious and she, a Dalish elf who had grown up in the Ferelden Circle on Lake Calenhad, thrived under his enthusiastic instruction. She wished he could see it on this day, with the Divine herself holding a Conclave for peace in the place he held most holy. A laugh down the hall caught her attention and she turned, idly hoping they would be having something spicy for dinner when there came a blinding flash of light and the floor rocked beneath her feet. She fell to her knees on the hard tiling as shouts and gasps rose all around. A second shockwave washed over them, bringing down snow from the mountain that fell in sheets outside the window, throwing room into darkness and causing the torches to flicker wildly.

When it stopped, the room was dark and she could hear people moaning. Somewhere, one of the Templars was shouting out orders and a torch flared at the other end of the gallery. The mountain was still rumbling ominously, and everyone who could stand was staggering to their feet, as well. "Get everyone to the east tunnel," Ser Draklyn shouted and she found herself moving with the group, bumped this way and that until they passed the corridor where her sleeping quarters were located. She turned in the crowd and tugged at one of the Templar's sleeves.

"Please, may I take some of my things? There are not many and they're right here," she asked. "I promise it will take me but a moment."

"Ah ...," he paused and eyed her garb for a moment, trying to ascertain if she were a mage or an acolyte, but finally shrugged. "Aye, but hurry. We have to get everyone out before something collapses."

"Thank you, Ser," She bobbed a quick bow and darted to her room, grabbing the half-filled pack by the door and shoving her things into it - including the 'walking staff' she carried when she went out onto the mountain from time to time. Some of the other archivists and librarians had had the same thought as she, and they met in the darkened hallway, faces pale and strained in the dim light. Mother Heddin, who was in charge of the chapel next to the library, had joined them and was carrying a pack of her own.

"Maker! What do you think happened?" asked one of the chantry sisters.

"I do not know," the reverend mother answered, herding them ahead of her into the hallway where a last, lone Templar waited with a light. "But we will soon find out. Let us not linger here or Ser Eddin will be greatly displeased with us."

He chuckled and shook his head, "Don't worry yourself, Mother. It's my duty to see you safely out. I'll not let anything happen to you or the others."

They climbed the stair that lead to the level where most of the Templars and male researchers kept quarters. It was brighter here, which was comforting. At least the entire library hadn't been buried in the avalanche. They all relaxed a little, following Eddin into one of the side tunnels and down toward the mountainside. At the top of the last staircase, they paused as Eddin came to an abrupt halt and raised a hand. "Do you hear that?" he asked, squinting ahead. The light was a strange, flickering green and Melori backed up a step, her hand gripping the haft of her 'walking staff'

They were about to take a step forward, to move closer to the exit when the lights ahead of them shivered and popped. A sound that made the hair on the back of Melori's neck stand on end followed ... a rattling, choking hiss that had all of them drawing together in response.

"Maker's breath," Eddin cursed.

"Demons," Melori whispered.

That is when the screaming began.

* * *

Eddin died badly. But he gave them a chance to run. Melori had moved almost before anyone realized what was wrong, shouting for them to go back, chivvying the small group of women down the hallway the way they'd come and up the stairs. Mother Heddin stumbled, but one of the librarians - Caro - grabbed her arm and helped her along.

"This way," Melori said, watching behind them with wild eyes. She knew these hallways better than most, having spent years here with Genitivi while she trained. They passed the dining hall and she harried them into a little used corridor, past the wine cellars, and into a space with high, barrel vaulted ceilings and beautifully carved statues of Andraste every few feet. This was one of the spaces no one used in order to preserve it. It was also one of the only spaces she knew of that had a door built of oak and banded with iron. It would take more than one rage demon to burn their way through, and, she hoped, could withstand the force if a pride demon decided to break in.

"Andraste preserve us," one of the sister's moaned, collapsing to the ground at Mother Heddin's feet. "What do we do now?"

"We wait, my child," the good mother said. "We pray."

Melori pretended to pray to the Maker with the rest, even though she was not quite able to remain still while everyone else knelt or bowed their heads. She paced instead, back and forth, back and forth, her heart sending out prayers to Mythal. It was hard to stand still, to push the magic down and pretend it wasn't there until the time came when she should use it. She wondered if the Reverend Mother would be shocked that Brother Genitivi's apprentice, once a loyal Circle mage, was now an apostate who had been hiding in the open from the Templars ever since the war had begun because no one seemed to remember that she'd been a mage at all. It almost made her laugh aloud, though she suspected the urge to be panic and not humor.

"Shhh!" One of the sisters near the door held up a quieting hand. Melori paused in her pacing, a bubble of panic surging though her chest. The feeling of _wrongness_ outside the door made her skin crawl, though no one else seemed to notice it. Something scratched along the wooden frame and everyone backed away, pressing themselves to the wall. One of the younger acolytes began to cry, her sobs muffling in the reverend mother's robes as the older woman pulled her close.

* * *

The hours stretched on and on. They slept fitfully, if at all, what with the constant scratching, hissing, and mocking laughter on the other side of the door. At one point they were wakened by something immense slamming itself repeatedly against the door, but the iron held and the oak did not sag. They had a few bottles of wine and some other odds and ends to eat - foods hidden by the archivists for cold nights and long hours. It served them well now, though four bottles among nine women wouldn't last long.

Now and then the mountain quaked and they clung to one another, numb with fear and exhaustion. As the hours passed and then a day ... and another ... they began to consider this room to be their tomb. Not an unconsidered fate among those who haunted ancient sites in search of books, but hardly a desired one.

Melori was sleeping in a corner, her head on her pack, her cloak wrapped tightly around her body. One of the chantry sisters was curled up next to her, her head on Melori's lap. It was warmer this way, even if the human found herself forced so close to an elf. The librarian was dreaming of the sun sparking across the waters of Lake Calenhad, of the way the Templar blades sounded as they practiced in the sparring hall, of the sound of shouting and ...

Her eyes flew open, and she shook the sister in her lap with rough hands to wake her. "Help us ... we're here!" She began to rap her staff against the door as the others roused, some weakly, some rushing to join her. They heard shouts in the halls beyond and the sound of metal on stone. And then there was a cry on the other side of the door and everyone rushed to remove the bar to let their rescuers inside. Behind her, the Reverend Mother praised Andraste, soon joined by the others as they laughed and cried. Melori smiled at their joy and praised Mythal, though she kept it hidden and close to her heart.


	2. Chapter 2

_To poke a wood fire is more solid enjoyment than almost anything else in the world.  
_~Charles Dudley Warner

.

* * *

"You all right down there, Mel'?"

The librarian lay in her bedroll and stared up at the drying herbs and cloves of garlic hanging a few inches above her head and sighed, whispering back. "I'm all right, Caro."

"You don't look that way," the other librarian, a human from the Free Marches who sported short, fine blonde hair and had nearly no eyebrows, was eyeing her dubiously from the comfort of one of the beds. "I'm sorry they made you sleep on the floor."

"I've slept on a lot of floors," she said reassuringly, despite the weird bump that was poking her in the spine and the almost over-powering smell of garlic just above her head. She tried not to think too hard about the fact that she was only on the floor because she was an elf and the others were human. Seven people in a cabin meant for six meant she'd got the corner of the floor nearest the fire and beneath the herbs. Joy.

"That doesn't mean …"

"Caro."

"You could sleep here with me, if you wanted? I can make room." The other woman scooted over on the narrow bed, wincing when it creaked loudly.

She considered it for a moment. A bed would be more comfortable, certainly, but she _hated_ sleeping with other people – may as well not sleep at all. "Thank you," she said, sincerely grateful for the offer, "But you'd push me out of the bed before morning. I've been told I kick."

"Will you two shut up?" one of their roommates growled from across the room and Caro rolled over in a huff. Melori shifted on her bedroll, then sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees. She wanted to sleep, but her mind was restless and her back already hurt from the hard floor. Outside, she could still hear the terrible sound of the Breach roaring in the distance, and shivered. It felt wrong to be here in Haven, safe and warm, while others were out there in the dark, fighting for their lives.

The room grew quieter as her companions fell into deeper sleep. She wanted to stretch out, to relax and fall into dreaming, but her nerves were ticking and the smell of garlic was too strong so she pulled on her over-robe, gloves, and boots, and went outside, ignoring the sleepy protests when opening the door let in a gasp of chilly air. The night was green with sickly light as she crunched her way through the streets of Haven, but she could still see glimpses of the stars overhead, here and there.

She walked past the tavern, ignoring the blazing lights and the promise of a warm fire, too tired to really want a drink and not quite certain what the people inside would be like. It was one of the things you had to consider as an elf out in the 'real' world. Growing up in a Circle Tower couldn't prepare anyone for living among regular folk, and she'd learned that avoiding confrontation was often the safest route. Not that she tended to drink heavily, anyway. A drunk mage tended to receive the unwanted attention of the Templars pretty rapidly, and that was the last thing she wanted.

The glow of a fire greeted her around the corner and a little distance down from the tavern. There were tents set up here and there and fires built nearby to warm them. A dwarf sat near the this fire, his hands held up to the flames for warmth and a cloak cast carelessly over his shoulders. She paused on the track, wondering if it would be all right to move closer, and her hesitation caught his eye. He smiled and tilted his head a little, "You look a little chilly."

"Do you mind if I share your fire?"

"Not at all," He scooted over a bit on the log he was using as a seat and she approached cautiously, sitting beside him and tucking her legs neatly to the side.

"Thank you … "

"Varric," he supplied, reaching forward to stoke the fire.

"I'm Melori," she returned, cuddling into her cloak and letting the heat settle into her bones. Her back was still chilly, but it wasn't too bad.

"A pleasure to meet you." He sat back on the log and they enjoyed a companionable silence for a few minutes. The crackling flames almost masked the roaring from the crater in the sky. "So, why aren't you inside where it's warm?" The dwarf asked at last, turning to look at her.

"Too many humans under one roof," she answered, shrugging a little. "Though it could be worse, I suppose. I'm lucky to be alive."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," He sighed. "How'd you end up here?"

A slightly hysterical bubble of laughter welled up at that question, but she forced it down. "I … erm … I'm a librarian from the Temple Archive. We were preparing to bind the record of the Conclave once it was compiled."

"You were part of the group they brought in this afternoon?" He asked. "I heard that was a bad fight."

"That was us, yes. We're just a bunch of librarians, archivists, and Chantry folk. Why are you here, Varric?" She asked, glancing over at him. "There aren't many dwarves in Haven that I've seen."

"True enough," his lips curved. "I was … _invited_ to the Conclave by Seeker Pentaghast." He put an odd emphasis on 'invited' and she wanted to ask, but thought perhaps she shouldn't.

"Seeker Pentaghast is here?" she asked instead. "I would have thought she'd have died in the explosion with … with everyone else."

"We almost did, but due to an … argument on the road, we were in Haven when everything blew up," He said heavily, reaching forward to stoke the fire again. "I can't say I'm sorry we arrived a little late."

"Oh." She grew quiet then, looking up to watch the swirling green hole in the sky. It made her stomach skitter uncomfortably, the pulsation of broken magic pushing against her boundaries every time she studied it.

"No one's certain how it happened," he said, looking up as well. "But they found someone up there, in the middle of the blast area. According to the soldiers, someone fell out of the Fade and there was a glowing figure … a woman … behind her."

"Someone … fell out of the Fade?" Her voice pitched a little high at the end of the question and she winced. "Sorry, but that's insane."

"I know, right? I've written a lot of crazy in my time, but that one beats all of it." He shook his head, chuckling softly. The laughter died when he looked back up at the giant rift in the sky. "You're a sister, right?"

"No, I'm not," Melori felt her face redden at the question and she shrugged, lightly. "I'm just a librarian," she lied. She'd been doing it for so long, it was easy to continue now. "I grew up in the Circle, but I'm not good for much more than shelving books, really."

"But you've studied magic."

"Yes, I've studied magic," she looked at him, brows lifted.

"What could cause something like that?"

The breach cracked again, shooting green energy into the air and snapped back on itself, like a whip, expanding a little more, taking up a little more of the sky. Melori was afraid of it, of what it meant. It was _wrong_ on such a fundamental level that she couldn't quite wrap her brain around it. She looked back at Varric, "I don't know … but it has to be something terrifying."

* * *

The next morning the dwarf was gone and Cassandra Pentaghast marched the prisoner who had fallen out of the Fade down from the Chantry and out toward the Breach. Melori had been rounded up with some of the other librarians to help write down orders for the Inquisition soldiers and to requisition supplies. From the numbers she saw, Haven was on the brink of disaster. The Breach kept expanding beyond their ability to contain it, and there weren't enough men, much less supplies, to keep fighting it.

It occurred to her that running was an option. The dissolution of the Circles had put her beyond Templar or Chantry rule, technically. If she could find a way to the Brecillian Forest, it might be possible to find her clan again. She could become one of the "Witches of the Wild" or something like that, living in a hut in the middle of the wood, surrounded by her books. She snorted a little at the idea. What books? Most of her collection was stored in the Circle of Ferelden, locked away in the vaults which had probably already been looted or destroyed. How she would get out of the Frostbacks was another question. It was too far to walk and all her traveling gear was still in the Archive in the mountains, buried now beneath ice and snow and surrounded on all sides by demons.

She sighed and got back to work. About mid-afternoon, she left the Chantry to find something to eat and was outside in time to see another flare of blinding light and, a moment later, the concussive force of the thing _snapping_ shut brought her to her knees. By the time she'd climbed out of the snow, a hand to her spinning head, the Breach was still and silent in the sky. Everyone around her began to cheer wildly, but all she could do was stare in shock and disbelief.

* * *

The population of Haven got drunk that night. Melori edged around the groups of partiers and wished she was anywhere but where she was. It wasn't that she didn't like parties. She did. Quiet parties where people conversed thoughtfully about history and literature, not parties where everyone shouted and people stole off into the corners where they could be stumbled upon by other people who just wanted a moment's peace and quiet. She was beginning to feel her nerves unraveling, so she ducked into the Chantry. No one got drunk in a Chantry … she hoped.

It was quieter inside, though she could hear people murmuring. She found a relatively warm spot along the colonnade where there was a chair and curled up there. Her bones ached with exhaustion and stress, and she let herself drift for a while, not really listening to what was going on around her. In her mind, she was in the southern forests again, sitting with her mother in a swaying aravel as they listened to the frogs singing in the dark. The ache in her chest expanded, and she chided herself for feeling homesick over people she'd only truly known for a few years.

"She is sleeping now," someone said just beyond the shadows where Melori sat, half-hidden. "The shock of closing the Breach has done little harm, if any. The mark has stopped spreading and will not kill her now."

"Have you heard what they are calling her?" The accent was Orlesian, the cadence familiar. She had heard that voice before, but couldn't quite place it.

"The Herald of Andraste." The third voice was one she recognized. Casssandra Pentaghast had a notable accent and a well-known gift for hunting down those who opposed the Chantry. Melori looked around for an escape route, but the only way out was the front door, and those were tightly shut.

"Because of the figure behind her in the Fade," the Orlesian said. She had a beautiful pitch to her voice, a light, amused quality that drew the listener nearer. "Is it right to let them continue with such rumors, do you think?"

"They will continue whether you wish them to or not," said the first speaker. There was a knowing quality to his voice that she wasn't sure if she liked or not. "It might be better for them to view her with reverence, given what they thought of her yesterday. There are other rifts for her to seal and opposition will only make things more difficult."

"And she still has to seal the Breach," added Lady Pentaghast. "Even though it is no longer spewing demons, it is dangerous."

"It will take power to seal it," the man answered, then paused. "Perhaps we should speak of this later? It has been a trying day for everyone."

"I admit," the Seeker said, "I would enjoy a break, even if only for a night."

They dispersed, then. Melori could hear the Right and Left Hands of the Divine speaking as they walked away, so she stood and pulled her cloak close, thinking to dart outside again.

"Strange to see another elf in the Chantry," the first voice, the man's, spoke from behind her and Melori jumped, so startled she almost tipped over into a nest of lit candles. He put out a hand and took her elbow to steady her. She turned to find a tall, pale elf with a gleaming, bald head leaning over her, his eyes crinkled into a not-quite-friendly smile.

"I was just leaving," she managed, her heart thumping in her chest to the point that she had to focus on breathing, else energy might fly, unbidden, from her fingers. Oh, how she was glad she'd wrestled her long hair into a plait before going out that morning, or she might now have a halo of static. She might anyway. She prayed not.

"I will walk with you," he said, still holding her elbow firmly, if not ungently.

"There is no need," she protested.

"There is every need," he answered, giving her a sideways glance. He opened the door and began walking and it became a matter of moving with him or being dragged. She opted for the former, but her temper was rising and that was never a good sign.

"I didn't hear anything that isn't already common knowledge." She said, trying to keep her voice down, despite the drunken singing and shouting coming from the tavern. He led her to the left and between the cabins nestled there and past the herbalist's without another word, and she wondered if she had a chance to break free. It was rather dark in this corner of Haven and she thought she might be able to make a dash for the Tavern …

"If you run, you will not get far," he said.

"Who said I would?" she shot back, trying to jerk herself free of his grasp. "I haven't done anything wrong!"

"So you are not an apostate mage?"

She halted in her tracks. "Everyone's an apostate now."

"Yet here you are in Haven, listening in on Seekers and surrounded by Templars sympathetic to the Inquisition. It seems an odd choice for an apostate."

"I'm not a particularly gifted mage …" she began.

"Liar."

"I am not!" Her temper flared and she glared at him, forgetting the urge to run and stepping up to him, her chin lifted angrily. "And who are you to accuse me of such things? I am a _LIBRARIAN._"

"_I_ am Solas," he smiled, crossing his arms over his chest. "Also an apostate."

"You …" she closed her eyes and stepped away, pulling everything back, including the sharp sting of electricity that popped along the fingertips of her left hand, which she hastily hid behind the cloak.

"Very good," he approved, watching her closely. "But not enough. Someone who isn't looking might not notice, but your gift is a rather loud one for those who can see it."

"I'm not …"

"You are." He smiled. "And you have not given me your name."

"I'm leaving," she turned on her heel in the snow and then flailed. He didn't catch her this time, one brow arching as she landed in a drift with a thud. Someone in the distance laughed with a great guffaw and she had to work not to take it personally. The apostate elf extended a hand and she eyed it for a moment before grudgingly allowing him to lift her to her feet.

"If you do not tell me your name, I will have to find one for you."

"Fine. Fine! Melori Enara. And I am a librarian."

He smiled then and laughed, letting go of her hand. "_Ma Serannas_, Melori Enara. It has been interesting meeting you."

* * *

.

NOTE 1: _ Kinda working my way into this one. Melori is feeling pretty grumpy right now! This is what happens when you poke fictives with sticks!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Sometimes the littlest things in life are the hardest to take.  
You can sit on a mountain more comfortably than on a tack.  
_ ~Author Unknown

.

* * *

She avoided the mage as though he was a darkspawn after that, which proved easy enough once the Herald of Andraste woke up and presented herself to the people in Haven. Well, it was less a presentation and more of a slightly confused amble past a _lot_ of curious people who knew she'd saved them, but who weren't sure what happened next. Melori and Caro were on the edges of the throng near the Chapel and managed to get a good look at her, which they also made certain to write down as neatly as possible.

The Herald was a tall, human woman with dark brown hair and blue eyes that seemed to see _everything. _People who met her face to face all stared at her for a moment before bowing or backing away, but she would just smile and nod with a slightly confused expression. Caro was, fortunately, good at sketching, so she and Melori were able to provide a quick drawing, as well, though Caro declared they would need a closer look. A lot of the Chantry folk were arguing between themselves about whether or not it was a sacrilege to call the woman who'd closed the breach "The Herald of Andraste", so they made sure to note that, too.

"Hey, you there!"

At first, they didn't realize they were the ones being shouted at across the space in front of the Chantry, but the woman then called Caro's name and they both looked up to find the Requisition Officer bearing down on them with purpose in her eyes.

"Shit," hissed Melori and they scrambled, trying to duck around the corner, but it was too late.

"I'm looking for recruits to help with our suppliers and getting the troops outfitted," the woman, Threnn, said, standing in front of them with her hands on her hips and a slightly terrifying gleam in her eye. "Either of you nits good for it?"

They glanced at one another, then at Threnn. "We're librarians from the Temple Archive," began Caro. "I'm not sure we're the sort of recruits you're thinking we are."

"I thought we were refugees," Melori added.

"Nonsense! You can write, you're organized, and you … well …" she looked them up and down with a frown. "Neither of you look like you'd survive more than a day in the field. If that."

That assumption wasn't exactly true. Caro had been a friend since she'd helped Melori run away from the expedition in the Kocari Wilds three years previously. When Melori had come back middle of the turmoil of the mage rebellion, Caro had helped to bring her into the work being done at the Temple Archive. Both of them were fairly skilled at surviving in harsh climates, even if they weren't worth much in a fight. Caro wasn't' a mage, and Melori refused to admit she was one, but they both were pretty talented at hiding in dark corners until any danger passed them by.

"Probably wouldn't," Melori admitted, as though she deeply regretted the failing. "We're scholars, Ma'am. Not much use in the wilds, really."

"That just means you need training." Threnn turned and barked at one of the clerks currently bent over a pile of the requisition orders that they'd helped scribe the previous day. "What do you think, Pipp? Swords?"

He glanced at them and snorted. "Too scrawny."

"Staves then," she turned back to the two women and smiled. "Report in to the Commander in the morning first thing and we'll get you on the training lists. Can't have layabouts in the Inquisition, can we?" She turned on her heel and stalked back toward her tent. The librarians watched her go until she was out of earshot.

"Meet me at first light with a pack and a pony?" Caro asked, staring at Threnn's retreating back.

"All my equipment is in the Archive," Melori was pinching the bridge of her nose. "I'd just slow you down."

"So is mine, actually," Caro sighed.

"So we can't go unless we steal equipment, which I find morally repugnant given the circumstances …," Melori let the thought trail off.

"We're screwed," Caro said sadly. "Want a pint?"

"Just this once? Yes."

* * *

One pint is _never_ just one pint, especially when you start drinking in the middle of the afternoon - which would have been helpful information to have before she woke up sprawled in a corner of the yard behind the herbalist's hut a little before dawn. "Gods damn you, Caro," she muttered, trying unsuccessfully to lever herself back to her feet. She felt like she'd been run over by a Druffalo on top of a drunken case of the hiccups. She felt … foul. As though she had again contracted the summer fever one sometimes gets in the Kocari Wilds.

"I am not prepared for this," she told the stars winking overhead, waving a hand limply upward. "This is what happens when you grow up … not … out there. Here. Wherever we are."

Crawling along through the little stand of trees behind Adan's she had to pause for a moment to retch into a nearby bush before flopping unhappily back into the snow. She took a few mouthfuls to get rid of the taste of sick and sighed. It was cold. But she didn't feel terribly chily just yet. She'd somehow made it out of the tavern with her gloves and over-robe still intact, which was fortunate. Still, she wasn't so out of her head that she thought it safe to just lie there in the snow and the cold. Carefully, like a bent old woman, she crawled to her knees and then used a tree to pull herself into a standing position. The world spun like a top and she found herself hugging the tree for dear life.

"Oh Creators make it stop," she whispered, squeezing her eyes tightly closed. What had they given her to drink? She wasn't that much of a light weight, even if she didn't let herself drink very often. Whatever it was, it had a kick like a halla. A _BIG_ halla.

Of course, there was a way to make herself feel better. But she really didn't want to go around using magic so close to the Chantry and the rest of the Inquisition. Magic was dangerous. Magic got you annulled or Templared or Abominationed …. She realized she was whispering to the tree and snapped her lips closed. Drunken magic was never a good idea.

"Come on feet," she said, after a moment's rest and pushed herself from tree to tree and then to the inner wall that ran around the village. She kept her hand on the rough stonework and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and very nearly killed herself when she forgot that Haven was on a hill and there was a fairly large drop right there where she was walking. Very _nearly_ killed herself because, for some reason, she wasn't actually plummeting to the ground.

"Librarian," Solas said conversationally. "You seem to be …" his nose wrinkled as moved nearer, "completely drunk."

She realized then that she had not fallen because he had used his magic to halt her progress, and she was so numb from the alcohol, it had taken her entirely too long to notice. If it hadn't been so cold, it might have been comfortable to hang there, suspended in the air, but she'd begun shivering and hiccupping at the same time, which was a miserable state of being.

"They conscripted us," Melori explained, her words only slightly slurry. "Was gonna go home to … to the Brec… the Brec'lian … the Brec…" she waved her hands in the air, giving up on the word. "Forest. To the clan." A tear rolled down her cheek, followed by a miserable hiccup. "I hate being drunk."

"I see," He said quietly, doing something in the air with his hands that managed to both make her dizzier and to settle her back onto solid ground. She leaned against the wall and sighed. "Gonna punch Caro when I see her next."

"Is she responsible for your current state?" He asked, magic flaring from his fingers. The dizziness began to fade, taking the hiccups with it, and she sighed, sliding down till she was sitting in the snow.

"Yep. The …," she paused, trying to remember the term. "The … Requisitions lady wants us to … to … " she fluttered her fingers in the air, trying to remember the term, then was distracted as a little bit of energy escaped one digit, staring at it with fascination. Solas had walked up to the edge of the embankment, his head nearly level with her own, and was staring at the magic as well.

"What does she want you to do?" he asked gently.

"Order things, take … messages? I guess?" Her lips turned down and she frowned at her hands, "So … gotta tell that Templar … in the morning. We're supposed to learn to fight … but … he's a templar. Everyone says so."

Drunk meant magic escaping when you least want it to escape. Thinking about telling a Templar, of all people, that she wanted to learn to fight in the morning caused her nerves to jump, and that sent shivers of nervous energy racing through her hands, arcing little bolts of energy into the air to dance from finger to finger.

"You don't believe me," she said, looking at the elven apostate with accusing eyes. "They don't think I'm a mage."

"That you are not a mage is clearly false," he answered.

"I'm a librarian," she said quietly. "When I say that, they don't ask me if I'm a mage, too."

"Ahh, I see now." He nodded, a thoughtful expression flitting across his face.

* * *

She woke up a second time in Caro's bed, feeling only faintly hungover. Caro was sprawled against the wall with an arm flung over her head, snoring symphonically. The rest of the cabin was empty, so Melori got up and used the pitcher of water to giver herself a quick bath. She desperately needed to wash her hair, she thought, trying to plait the riotous mess into something smoother than a bird's nest. Locating her clan in the forest had been made easier by the fact that her hair was not only long, but a distinctive shade of golden red that so resembled her mother's that no one questioned the relationship. They were too alike in looks, though the Keeper said she was more like her father in spirit.

Eventually she managed to tame the mess into a long, tight braid that fell past her hips in a thick line. Her robes were actually not too badly off, despite her recent acquaintance with the ground and the tree and the … she glowered down at her over-robe. It was fine. Cataloging things might be a great idea for work, but it became annoying when she caught herself doing it with day-to-day minutiae.

"C'mon, Caro," she said after she'd got done dressing. "We have an appointment with pain today. Remember?"

The other woman just groaned and threw a pillow at her. "Don't make me smother you with this," Melori threatened, holding the pillow up in a 'thwacking stance.' She was pretty good at pillow-fighting, if nothing else.

"It would be better than the fate awaiting us," Caro said, her voice muffled beneath the quilts. "Do we _have_ to go?"

"Do you want that woman hunting us down? She seems the type," Melori swatted the rump sticking up in the middle of the bed. "Come on, you lazy nugalump. I am _not_ doing this alone."

"Fiiiiine."

They grabbed breakfast from the Tavern and then made their way down to where the troops were training. Melori concentrated on being invisible. It wasn't that the Inquisition had a horde of Templars working for them or even that the Templars were actively going after the mages in the camp. The problem was that there were so _few_ mages and the Templars who had followed the Commander everyone kept talking about outnumbered the mages significantly. Four or five of them were more than enough to take down a single mage. So, as the passed them by, Melori thought very hard about how she would finish Genitivi's compilation if she ever got it back from the Archive.

They were waved along the line to one of the soldiers vetting the new ranks once they got out the front Gates to where the almost deafening sound of metal against metal greeted their ears. The soldier, a clerk, was walking up to everyone in line and taking down their information.

"Name?" The clerk asked, pausing in front of Melori.

"Melori Enara," she said nervously. He glanced up at her, then over at Caro, one of his brows lifting.

"The woman in charge of Requisitions sent us," Caro explained. "We're supposed to learn how to fight? I think."

He rolled his eyes and then shouted something over his shoulder. A younger man ran up and saluted only to have the papers and stylus shoved into his arms, "Keep taking down information, Silas. C'mon you two."

They followed him across the training field, and around the tents until he turned and held up a hand. "Wait right here."

"Um … are we in trouble?" Melori asked, a little worriedly when he was out of earshot.

"No idea," Caro answered. "But the way things have been going lately? I wouldn't put money on 'no'."

A few minutes later he came back talking to a slightly taller man who had his head bent down to listen. A slightly taller _Ferelden_ man with hair a little lighter than Melori's and … she almost turned around and walked away right there, but Caro caught her arm and squeezed, hissing, "What are you doing?"

"I … dammit. That's CULLEN RUTHERFORD," she hissed back to Caro. "Knight Commander CULLEN RUTHERFORD."

"So?"

So he'd been in the Circle Tower in Ferelden when she was fifteen and the entire tower had nearly been annulled. He knew her by name, if not on sight, and … gods. He'd left the tower sometime before the joke that bad been her Harrowing, but she'd heard things. She knew how he felt about mages, or thought she did. He had been in Kirkwall when the mage rebellion began, and now, of all the places he could have been, he was here. And it had nothing to do with her, but it might possibly get her killed. It took every bit of willpower she had, but she crammed her emotions into a small, powerless little ball and forced herself to forget, for now, that she had ever had magic and focused on the fact that she was, and always would be a LIBRARIAN. Dammit.


	4. Chapter 4

_Late at night  
Things I thought I put behind me  
Haunt my mind_

_I just know there's no escape_  
_Now once it sets its eyes on you_  
_But I won't run,_  
_Have to stare it in the eye_

~ Within Temptation from "Stand my Ground"

.

* * *

"I'm not certain, Ser, but the two of them are the most out of place green horns I've seen yet. It's a waste of my time, honestly," the clerk said as he and the Commander approached the two waiting women. Caro was eyeing Melori as though she'd lost her mind, and Melori was trying to remember the Chant of Light, just in case having it in her head would make it less likely that he'd remember her or that she was a mage. What was the verse Genitivi had always chanted ... "_Here lies the abyss, the well of all souls ..." _Melori grimaced. That wouldn't work.

The Commander gave them both a quick look and then turned back to his clerk, "Who sent them?"

"Requisitions, Ser."

"I suppose you're both experienced clerks?" He asked, glancing at a memo another soldier handed over to him. He nodded and handed it back to the man before looking to Caro and Melori for their answer.

"Ahh, no ... well, we're librarians, Ser," Caro said. "I supposed you could say we're experienced clerks, but that wouldn't be giving us much credit, really. We're archivists and we know how to restore books and maintain catalogs."

"Ahh, I see." He nodded sharply. "From the Temple Archive, I take it?"

"Yes, Ser," Caro answered, digging an elbow into Melori's side when the other elf didn't answer, though, to be accurate, the elf didn't think she _could_ answer. Her jaw felt as though it had locked itself shut.

"Names?"

"Caro Gifford, Ser."

This time, Caro reached under Melori's elbow and pinched it, _hard,_ making the elf jump and look up to find Knight Commander Cullen Rutherford looking directly at her with a polite, if impatient expression. She unlocked her jaw with an effort and hoped to the gods that she didn't sound a fool when she spoke, "Melori Enara ... ah, Ser."

"Enara?" He repeated, turning to focus on her face for a long moment, his eyes narrowing. Melori feared another breach had just opened beneath her feet and clasped her gloved hands tightly behind her, afraid to breathe ... which made her head spin. She was certain she was about to die, which would make it a mercy if he called the Templars over to see to her quick execution; however, all he said was, "You were at the Ferelden Circle?"

"Yes ... Ser," she said and forced her voice to stop shaking. "I ... I was a librarian there with ... with Senior Enchanter Tyrol. Not as a mage ... I was learning about archiving, book repair, and ... and ... creating histories. Both Caro and I have studied broadly ..." she trailed off, the words drying out with her wits.

"Melori's a bit shy, I'm afraid, Ser," Caro stepped in, shooting Melori a look that spoke of payback later - most likely involving Wicked Grace and alcohol. "She has a hard time speaking of her time at the Circle."

"Ah, I am sorry. I, too, struggle with my memories of those days," he said courteously, even kindly, which made her blink up at him in surprise. He cleared his throat and asked, "I don't suppose either of you have experience in the field?"

"We ... we've both gone on expeditions," Melori said, surprising herself. The fact that he hadn't even questioned whether she was a mage or not was ... elating, confusing, ... too much. She had to work not to babble in relief. "Caro and I met in the Kocari Wilds studying ancient ruins, actually."

That got his attention. He looked to his clerk and nodded sharply, "Talk to Simon about setting up a training for the light weights - staves and short blades to begin. And pull these two out of Requisitions. We need people who understand what we're looking at out in the field. I'll talk to Scout Harding about where we should place them and when."

"So you're putting them with the Scouts, Ser?" The clerk looked as pole-axed as the two librarians felt.

"Yes, I think they'll do splendidly. If you'll excuse me, Ladies," the Commander turned to accept another report from yet another messenger and walked away.

"Did ... he just make us ... scouts?" Caro asked slowly.

"I ... believe so, yes," Melori answered, watching him walk away with a sense of shock.

"Well, he knows what he's about, I hope," the clerk said, shrugging and turning to face them. "Come on, you two. Simon's going to want to know what he's up against."

* * *

"What is wrong with you?" Caro was giggling drunk and pointing a slim finger under Melori's nose. "You took one look at Commander Cullen, went white as a ghost and just ... quit speaking. No words! The elf who knows everything just ... went utterly mute."

"Can I just ... die now?" Melori asked, sinking down till she was half-hidden behind her mug of ale. "At least you managed to say something coherent, Caro."

"I know! And totally worth it, too, right? Did you see that scar? OOh, I coulda ..."

Melori reached over and slapped her hand over the human's mouth. "No."

"But ..."

"Stop it. Talk about Simon instead. I thought you'd decided you were in love with him?"

"Ohh, but I am," Caro crowed, lifting her mug and slamming it down so it sloshed onto Melori's sleeve. "Such a bea-u-ti-ful man."

"Uh huh," Melori laid her head down on the table while Caro went on and on and on. By the time she was onto her fifth mug of ale, Caro and Simon had six kids and he hated Lady Gifford as only happily married men can hate their mother-in-laws. That meant, happily, that Caro was soon to topple into oblivion and Melori would be free to go hide somewhere. She desperately wanted privacy ... and a book. Preferably _not _one of the sordid romances Caro favored ... maybe a book of poetry. Something elven ...

"Your friend is a darkspawn short of a Blight, my friend."

"Ser Varric," She turned her head to the side without lifting it off the tabletop. He was a bit taller than she was when she had her had down, so she had to angle a bit to see his face. "Creator save me from love-crazed humans."

"And here I thought elves were the last true romantics," he smiled, sliding in next to her and setting a tankard of spiced rum next to her half-empty mug. Her nose twitched and she sat up a little, trying not to sneeze.

"What _is_ that?"

"Family recipe," he grinned, pushing the tankard toward her. "Wanna try it?"

"Only if it won't leave me incoherent in the morning," she said, blinking and wiping at her eyes. "I'm not sure it won't kill me ..."

"You'll only be a little cross-eyed, I promise."

"Hmm," she thought about it for a moment, then looked over to where Caro was leaning against the wall, half-asleep and drooling a little. "Fine. You're definitely better company, anyway."

"Thank you," he bowed slightly, acknowledging the complement.

"So, what is it you do, Ser Varric?" She asked, picking up the tankard in both hands (it was a big tankard) and tipping it back to her mouth.

"Oh, I do a lot of things," he answered, "But most people know me for my writing."

"You're a writer?" She blinked at him owlishly just as the liquid reached her mouth.

"Oh! I thought you already knew, since you're the librarian," he laughed. "Allow me to introduce myself. Varric Tethras, writer, adventurer, merchant ..."

Her eyes crossed and the fiery liquid went the wrong way down. Spluttering, she sat the tankard down and began coughing into her hands, blindly reaching for a napkin. Varric handed her a handkerchief instead and she began blotting at her face with it, coughing uncontrollably while he pounded her sympathetically on the back. When the fit had finally subsided, she turned all the way around to look at him - the knowing smile, the blonde chest hair, the ... "Oh gods. I'm such an idiot."

"No no no," he was still patting her back and laughing. "You had no way to know! It was my fault. I should have let you try the drink properly _before_ I introduced myself."

"I ... I have read every single _Hard in Hightown_ I could find," she admitted a little sheepishly. "And one of the Chantry sisters from Kirkwall gave me a signed copy of _The Champion of Kirkwall_ for my birthday last year."

"Always nice to meet a fan," he chuckled.

"This is so embarrassing," she groaned, putting her head down again. "I should have stayed in bed this morning."

"Awww, if you had done that, I wouldn't be sitting here feeling all warm and tingly about myself."

"So I did something right today?" she laughed a little helplessly.

"You wanna hear about a _ truly _bad day? How about I tell you what _really_ happened when Hawke and I were attacked by bandits on the way back to Kirkwall? That'll make you feel better ... "

* * *

THWACK. THWACK. SMACK. THWACK ...

"OW! Dammit ..."

"Keep your guard up, Enara," Captain Simon Warren said, walking around the training area while she hopped up and down on one leg and swore. "You keep dropping your elbow. That lets me get in through here," he poked at her with the end of the training staff.

"Sorry, Ser," She answered, grabbing her own staff from the ground again. Despite appearances, she was doing rather well with her combat lessons. Carrying a 'walking staff' for several years had given her a feel for them, and she'd had some basic training at the Circle in Ferelden when she was younger. After a few weeks of training, she was starting to feel fairly confident.

"It's your arse, Enara," Simon said, chuckling. "You've pretty much got the basics down. We're just refining things so you don't get yourself killed."

"I like that goal," she agreed, stretching for a moment before taking her place again and readying for another bout. Secretly, she rather enjoyed the exercise. All the pudginess that came from toiling over a book for weeks on end disappeared fairly quickly once she'd started training, and her mood had lightened along with it. Melori hadn't realized just how dour she'd become until she wasn't anymore ... that and she was getting a lot more sleep now that she and Caro had their own tent. Caro missed the fireplace, but Melori was a little bit in love with having her own nest of furs and quilts without a bunch of humans calling her 'knife ear' when she was trying to sleep.

After the practice session, she ran up to Haven gates to see if any orders had come for herself and Caro. They were expecting to be sent out into the wilds of Thedas any time now, though they hadn't yet received anything - which made sense, considering they were still training. Still, Scout Harding had indicated in one of her recent dispatches that the Herald had discovered an ancient elven ruin in the Hinterlands and someone should probably get a better look at it. With that in mind, Simon encouraged both of them to be ready to leave at a moment's notice.

"Scout Enara, wasn't it?"

"Commander Cullen, Ser," she said, saluting briskly and hiding her surprise as he walked up alongside her.

"I hear you're about to leave for the Hinterlands," he said.

"Yes, Ser. I expect to find the orders on the table any day now," she nodded, feeling a lot easier talking to him now that the mortal terror had abated. It helped that she was dressed in light leathers and not her robes - the change in clothing made hiding what she was just that little bit easier.

"You should know that the fighting is still desperate in that area. Be careful to avoid anything outright," his steps slowed for a moment, and she turned to find him looking pensively down at her.

"Of course, Ser. Captain Warren says Caro and I would be better off running for the hills if anything with a sword comes at us." It still felt odd to speak like a soldier, though Simon had been drilling it into all the 'light weights' as the rest of the camp liked to call them. Most of them were scholars or researchers of one stripe or another, not much given to fighting of any kind. Those most likely to be found quickly dead, she thought a little grimly.

"When you return, I'd like you to report directly to me regarding any findings you may have had. The situation in the Hinterlands is delicate, and we have heard ... rumors about the mage activity there. Also, the remaining Templars near the Crossroads have not entirely been brought to heel. If they mistake you for one of the apostates ..."

"I'll bash them in the head with my stick?" Melori offered, and then felt a little flutter of delight when his lip curved into a half-smile. Caro had been right about the scar, damn her hide.

"That'll do it," He agreed, and gave her a small wave as he headed back to his usual place among his men.

"How did I not notice that before?" she wondered to herself before turning to find the clerk on duty smirking at her.

"Just think about it," she said pointedly. "What if he smiled at _you_ like that, hmm?"

His smile disappeared and he shifted a little in his seat.

"I thought so. Have you got any orders for me?"

* * *

She and Caro were ordered to report to the Hinterlands the next day, so that night Caro made sure their bags were in order while Melori collected anything they required for the trip. That meant walking up the path to Adan's cabin before he put out the candle - a symbol to all and sundry that he was not to be disturbed for the rest of the night. Fortunately, the candle was still lit, so she ducked inside and asked what he thought they might need for a the trip. That led to an interesting discussion regarding the wildlife of the Hinterlands area, which eventually got around to Adan asking her to bring back some very particular herbs he might be able to use, if it was convenient.

By the time she left the cabin, the stars were wheeling overhead and the world had again taken on a greenish tinge from the Breach. She paused, her boots sinking into the snow, and looked at it for a long moment, considering how inconceivable it was that the entire Conclave, the entire Temple of Sacred Ashes, was gone. She'd heard about the destruction of the Kirkwall Chantry, of course, but that seemed easier to comprehend than this. To have something so old and so valuable destroyed in mere _seconds_ made her heart ache, but to destroy so many lives along with it? She sighed and shook her head.

"_Aneth'ara, Lethallan_."

At this point, she ought to be used to Solas sneaking up on her; instead, she made a small sound and nearly dropped the bandolier of potions she was carrying, which caused her to fumble the lyrium draught she held in her other hand. She only barely managed to catch it with the very tips of her fingers, watching in dismay as it began to slip slowly out of her grasp, "Oh ... ahh ..."

He bent next to her and removed the blue, gleaming vial from her hand with a smile. "I was not aware that Librarians require lyrium potions."

"_Ma Serranas," _she thanked him as he handed it back to her. "We're taking that in case we run across some of the creatures Adan warned me lurk in the dark spots of the Hinterlands. Apparently, lyrium potions can work as a counter-agent to certain poisons."

"It puzzles me that you cling so desperately to this falsehood," he said, walking down the path with her a little ways. When they came to the end of it, they stopped, and he continued. "Would it distress you to tell me why you deny your abilities?"

Melori thought about it for a moment, then said,"A librarian, as opposed to a mage, doesn't have to live in a Circle, she doesn't have to fear the Templars or the Chantry, and she can go anywhere she wishes."

.

* * *

NOTE: I tend to edit a little after a post, because, invariably, I find some glaring mistake that I completely goofed over in the initial editing sessions. I promise I'll get them fixed in the morning!


	5. Chapter 5

Note I: _In my head, Melori's got a little bit of a Scottish accent. Not a huge one, just a little one – a remnant of having learned while living with her Dalish clan as an infant. Her o's are a longer, and she burrs her r's a bit, too. So she'd say her own name "Me'LOH'rri" I think. Nothing huge … just how I hear her in my head. Yeah … voices in my head … silly noggin._

Note II: _In my zeal to keep Solas speaking elvish when I want him to do so, I made up a nick name of his for Melori using the Dragon Age Wikia' entry on Elven Language. _Asha'Vallaseren _(woman who writes dreams/stories). Which is as close as I can get to "record keeper." _

Note III: _I'm assuming most areas / places would be bigger than they are presented in the game. So if I describe something as larger than it seemed in the game ... that's because it is larger in my imagination :D_

* * *

_._

"_Some birds are not meant to be caged, that's all. Their feathers are too bright, their songs too sweet and wild. So you let them go, or when you open the cage to feed them they somehow fly out past you. And the part of you that knows it was wrong to imprison them in the first place rejoices, but still, the place where you live is that much more drab and empty for their departure_." ― Stephen King

.

* * *

The journey to the Hinterlands from Haven was only a few days ride, if you had a horse. On foot, it took about a week, if you were following the roads. The scouts rode where most of the troops walked, as they had a need to be in the farthest reaches of Thedas as quickly as possible. This was welcome news for Caro and Melori, who were both unused to walking long distances. They and the other scouts headed into the area were traveling light, expecting to take advantage of established camps when they arrived. One of the bonuses of this particular trip is that they would be riding with the Herald's party until got to the Crossroads near RedCliffe, after that, the Herald would head up to the Storm Coast.

Caro and Melori were both dressed in leather armor with chain panels and the Inquisition symbol hanging from a tabard threaded through their belts. Having worn robes most of her life, the chain was irritating for Melori and she spent a great deal of time adjusting things while they rode down from the Frostbacks toward the wilds between Haven and civilization.

"You're going to give yourself a raw spot," Caro admonished when she caught the Melori shifting her armor again. "Why didn't you do like I told you and try riding a bit before we left?"

"I'm not … particularly … good with … horses," Melori answered, tugging at the strap that held her staff across her back. "This is rubbing against my chest and it_ hurts_."

"At least you've got a chest," Caro shot back. "I'm built like my sixteen year old brother and I'm half past twenty!"

"Not my fault you eat like a bird."

"Do either of you ever shut up? Maker help me," groaned Sergeant Stanton, an older man with close-cropped salt &amp; papper hair and a scar across half his face. He looked, as Caro had told him earlier, like a pirate. He'd already had enough of the both of them, which was too bad considering he was charged with keeping them alive in the field. The poor man had no more arrived in Haven than he'd had to turn around and head back out, this time with two very odd female 'scouts' under his wing.

"We're fairly quiet while working," Melori pointed out. "But traveling is not working."

"Traveling is boring," Caro agreed. " You _could_ chat with us, you know? If we're going to be spending hours and _hours_ together, it might be nice to get to know one another."

"That's all right," he huffed. "I've got one duty, and that's to keep you alive. Beyond that, I don't have to do anything I don't want to do, and I don't want to go chattering around like a mad little bird."

"Suit yourself," Melori laughed. "But we go on like this at night, too. Fair warning."

"Maker help me," he repeated under his breath.

* * *

Caro eventually fell asleep in the saddle, her pale head canted back into the sunlight at an awkward angle. It was midday and the air was warmer in the lower elevations. The Sergeant muttered about Caro sleeping along the route, but Melori noted that he was also making sure that her friend wasn't about to slide out of the saddle. He was probably happier that they'd finally shut up, she thought with a grin and rode ahead a little bit, moving into the space between the two groups of travelers. The view was excellent and she was able to pause now and then to get a closer look at roadside shrines or ancient way-markers. Recording each in her journal with a small description, which she wrote along the way, one leg crossed over the pommel of her saddle and her journal propped on her knee.

"_Aneth ara,__ Asha'Vallaseren."_

This time, she didn't drop anything, thankfully. Though she did jump and her horse skittered to the left with a hopping motion that had her clutching at the reins. "_A-Aneth ara,_ Solas," she replied, shutting her journal and tucking it away. "What was that you called me?"

"It was 'woman who writes dreams', though it could also be 'woman who writes stories'," he explained, putting a hand to her horses neck as they spoke. He was walking rather than riding, using his staff as a walking stick while his horse followed along behind him like a pet mabari. He was tall enough that she did not have to look down very far to speak with him.

"Asha ... Valler ..." she tried to wrap her tongue around the word, but it seemed a little slippery and got away.

"_Asha'Vallaseren," _he supplied again. "_Asha _is woman. _Vallas _is writing. _Eren _means dreams or stories. It seemed appropriate, given your chosen vocation."

"Oh, I can hear it now, It has the same root as _vallaslin_."

He nodded, smiling as he walked along beside her horse, "Well done."

"They say in Haven that you understand the rifts in the Fade," she ventured, feeling a little uncertain. All of their encounters had been brief and, for her, confusing. They had yet to hold an actual conversation.

"I have a great deal of knowledge regarding the Fade," he answered, his expression thoughtful. "Have you ever visited an ancient dwelling place or field of battle and wondered what you would see had you been there at its height?" He glanced up at her, measuring her reaction. "I have traveled to many such places and visited them in dreams."

"You _deliberately_ visit the Fade?" Melori gave him a disbelieving look, her lips compressed as she considered the idea, "You are far braver than I."

"Perhaps," he agreed. "Though I have not lived under the threat of a Harrowing or tranquility, as you have."

"You were lucky," she agreed, glancing around to make sure no one near could overhear them. "I was in the Circle Tower in Ferelden when it was overrun by maleficarum and demons. They almost annulled the tower because of it. That ... that is why I ... hide."

"I am sorry," he said, his expression troubled. "You have never been given a chance to truly enjoy what you are."

"That's ... not entirely true," Melori answered, a little smile crossing her lips. "Caro helped me run away at the end of the Kocari Expedition. I spent three years in the Brecillian Forest with my mother's people and with the _Hahren _of our clan. She taught me everything she could while I was there, and, for a few years, at least, I reveled in it."

"Why did you leave it, if you had such freedom?" Solas asked, watching her closely.

"My feet grew restless," she admitted, looking off into the trees along the roadside. "Things were happening out in the world and I wanted to _be there_. Even if I was locked away in some library, copying a catalog or an old religious book, I wanted to be close enough at lease to _know._"

"That is why I travel into the Fade," he smiled. "You can learn so many things if you know where to look. And it is perfectly safe if you set the right wards. I have never fallen prey to spiders, wolves, or other creatures while I dreamed."

"Caro wouldn't let me, even if I wanted to," Melori said with a grin. "Perhaps one night I shall sneak off and take a peak."

"Let me know what you see, if you do."

* * *

It was chilly, but bright in the Hinterlands. The Inquisitor's party stayed for a night at the main camp and then departed for the Storm Coast early in the morning. Caro teased Melori non-stop about Solas, but the elf shrugged it off. He was a curious man and her little mystery had caught his attention. A simple consequence of living so close together in Haven, everyone bumped into everyone else eventually. Sergeant Stanton was of the opinion, welcome or not, that Solas was an apostate and should have been given over to the Templars. Melori liked him rather less after that.

The ruin they'd been sent to study was located near the road to Redcliffe and a few miles north of the Crossroads. Along the way, they stopped and spoke to some of the residents still living in the small village to ask about the area, but, for the most part, it was an easy journey. The initial fighting was well past and the Inquisition forces had established themselves firmly, so the only true threat beyond the wildlife were the surprisingly well-armed and armored bandits.

The ruin was a ramshackle place, full of old bones and the remnants of demons who had prowled the dark corridors. Caro had brought several hand-crafted torches specifically made to provide the clearest, brightest light possible, and someone had already lit the veilfire lanterns, which helped a great deal. For the first day or so, they were kept busy making preparations and setting up a small camp in the entrance, which is where the Sergeant stayed while they worked.

"You're both more capable than I'd have thought on first acquaintance," he admitted over a pot of stew Caro had heated over the campfire. "Far as anybody could tell, you were just a couple of scribes out for a bit of an adventure. Simon Warren said different, but I thought he was just tryin' to get one of you into ... er..." he had the grace to flush a little. "Sorry."

"No need for that," Caro laughed. "I would have stayed in Haven if I could, just to coax that one into my bed. We weren't intending to join up and leave, were we, Mel'?"

"Not at all," The elf said, leaning back against her rolled up pack and sipping at her too-hot soup. "Requisitions conscripted us for clerks, but the Commander tossed us to the scouts, instead. Can't say I'm sad about that."

"You shouldn't be," Stanton agreed. "That Threnn is a right martinette and difficult to work with on the best of days. Not that scouts are safer. We die a lot quicker than the rest of the troops, bein' first to the field and last out, so to speak."

"Well, no dying with us," Caro said sternly. "We're just here to do research, secure the site, and take what we find back to Commander Cullen. Nothing too dangerous and never anything stupid, right?"

"Right," Melori agreed, lifting her mug. "I think this one won't take long, and then we're heading ... where are we supposed to go next?"

"There's two locations they wanted us to look into," Caro said, fishing the paperwork out of her bags. "Here it is ... a natural canyon to the west and north of here near Dennet's farm. Apparently there were a lot of strange carvings there along with a wolves den. And we're supposed to look at the cavern where the rebel mages were holed up."

"That last sounds like it'll be unpleasant," Melori shivered over her soup.

"We'll just have to work fast and smart, that's all," Caro folded the orders back up and tucked them into a side pouch. "According to the scouts at the first camp, there aren't many mages left, but the bandits in the area are more likely mercenaries. We do not want to linger at any of these sites longer than a day or two or we'll be sitting targets."

"Got it, boss," Melori saluted sharply.

"Shut up, you," Caro laughed. "Eat your soup."

"Technically," Stanton said thoughtfully, "_I'm _the boss here."

"But do you _really_ want that kind of responsibility?" Caro asked, "For the two of _us?_"

* * *

A storm passed through the valley in the night while they slept. Melori dreamt of her mother's aravel and the songs the _hahren_ sang to teach the younger elves their heritage. She woke early to a still darkened sky and walked through the shadows to where the veilfire lit the ruin with flickering green and blue light. Despite Solas' words, she didn't think she was ready to enter the Fade just yet, but she could imagine it as it might have been. The remnants of mosaic murals littered the floor at the bottom of the walls, and there were small carvings here and there that she thought might represent the creator and the gods.

Taking one of the regular torches, she lit it from the Veilfire lantern and walked along the dark, empty spaces until she heard a soft, tinkling sound and felt a shiver of sympathetic power flickering over her skin. Kneeling down, she found a good spot where she could prop the torch upright, and then pulled her journal from her belt, describing in quick, tiny script the rune that had been revealed by the veilfire's greenish light. There were other things along other walls, and she lost herself in the search, unable to sense the passage of the hours deep inside the ruin.

"Melori?" A few hours later, Caro found the elf sitting on top of a broken column, cobwebs in her hair and a contemplative expression on her face. The human put her hands on her hips and frowned, "Should I ask what you're doing up there or not?"

"I found an inscription," Melori answered, still staring upward. "Something about Elgar'nan, but it's not anything I understand. Some of its familiar, and I can make out a few of the phrases, but the rest seem strange to me."

"Do you think it's important?" Caro asked.

"Probably not, but you never know. I mean, it's on the ceiling ... who is supposed to read anything up here?"

"I'm assuming you've got it copied into your notes already, so maybe come down and we'll meet with Stanton? I think we've found all we're going to find here."

"You're probably right," Melori sighed and stood, tossing the veilfire torch down to Caro before sliding down the tilted column to the floor.

* * *

Blinking into the light of day, Melori and Caro followed Stanton along the path that lead up the road to Redcliffe and then down a little breakaway toward the area where the mages had taken their last stand. The air still vibrated with reverberations of spent magic, and there were pillars of ice and remnant glyphs everywhere one looked.

"This must have been a nightmare," Melori breathed, looking around them with wide eyes. Everyone knew the fighting here had been messy and intense, but it was different when you could see bodies frozen in steaming piles of ice and corpses charred and burned beyond recognition. There were mage bodies among them, their robbed figures collapsed in bloody pools, or stuck full of arrows like monstrous pin cushions. And, if the visual horrors weren't enough, the smell was gag-worthy on its own.

"It's goin' to take years to clear this out," Stanton muttered, casting around for ambush or enemies as they walked. "I heard from some of them that helped in the fightin' that neither side seemed to care if you were a mage or a templar. They'd go so as they'd just kill everybody rather than ask."

"Is that the cave?" Caro asked, nodding to a depression in the hillside on their right. The smell was somehow worse here, and the left over vibrations made Melori's stomach twist uncomfortably. Whatever had happened here had been obscene, and she was viscerally reminded of the horrors she'd witnessed in the Circle Tower. "This is the worst I've seen in years," she whispered.

"You've seen something like this before?" Stanton asked, giving her a look.

"I've seen abominations before, and blood mages," she said quietly, turning away from the questions in his eyes. She'd seen her teacher, Senior Enchanter Tyrol, clawed to death by a maleficarum abomination. He'd died to save her, using his magic as a shield so she would have time to run away. This ... it was not so different from that time in the tower.

"Let's get this over with," Caro said firmly, gripping her walking staff tightly and leading the way into the cave. Melori followed after her, her shoulders hunching at the stench. It was _warm_ in the cavern, far beyond what it ought to have been. They hadn't gone far inside when they discovered why. Red Lyrium grew in wild disarray along the back wall, hazy, sinuous light sliding off the crystals and reaching out into the air like seeking fingers. They all three stared at it for a long moment before it really settled in what they were seeing, and the sick, twisted feeling of the magic was enough to send Melori staggering outside to retch helplessly into a bush. Caro, made of sterner stuff, walked deeper into the cavern with Stanton, but it took the elf a while before she could find the strength to go back inside.

* * *

"Sadly, the worst sites are the most important," Caro commented several hours later when they exited the cave and were able to pull down the cloth covering their mouths and noses. They'd been briefed at Haven on how to work safely near red lyrim, but both of them were feeling the effects after a few hours in the cavern. Still, they'd managed to get the job done. Each librarian carried several bags full of books, and their packs were stuffed with small artifacts - some historical, others still useful to the Inquisition. Stanton had made himself useful by building a bonfire off to one side and pilling the bodies on it. It didn't smell any better, but at least the clearing looked less like an abbatoir.

"It's growing late..." Melori said. "What should we do? I don't want to sleep here."

"Nor do I," Stanton agreed. "We can probably make it to the camp at Detton's before nightfall if we hurry."

"Let's do that, then," Caro bent, grimacing as she slung one of the bags full of books across her shoulder. "Why did we leave the horses at the first camp again?"

"Because they're expensive and Scout Harding won't let us bring them along?" Melori responded, groaning a little under the weight of her own pack. "This is going to be _such_ fun."


	6. Chapter 6

_He who would learn to fly one day must first learn to stand and walk and run and climb and dance; one cannot fly into flying_. ~Friedrich Nietzsche

.

* * *

The light was just breaking over the horizon when Melori opened her eyes. Not far away, the stream that ran past Inquisition camp on the edge of Dennet's farm was singing softly as it rolled along. A sweet song, if you could forget how cold the water was, she thought. It had been a rough hike from the rebel mages' hideout. What had seemed a short distance on the map had actually been a twisting journey through a small canyon. They'd barely avoided the Fade rift at the waterfall, skirting around it to the deeper end of the stream, which meant carrying the heavy bags and packs across one at a time to keep things dry.

Stretching a little, she pushed off her blankets and dressed, sneaking around the tent so she wouldn't wake her tent-mate. Melori had gone to sleep almost immediately the previous evening, but Caro and some of the soldiers at the camp had stayed around the fires till late in the night, laughing and drinking. Currently, Caro was sprawled on her bedroll, snoring softly with all her pale hair spread about her head like a halo.

"Captain Warren would certainly appreciate the view," The elf whispered, grinning to herself as she left the tent.

A fog had drifted through the camp from the stream, and the air had a ghostly, haunted quality. Shivering and rubbing her hands together, Melori knelt down next to the campfire and put a few more logs on, encouraging the fire to rise from the coals with a long stick. In the distance, she could hear the sound of songbirds and even an owl whooing. The peacefulness of the scene belied the violence that had so recently occurred so nearby, and she sat there, listening and trying to align the one with the other.

The fire as it rose and began to snap and curl happily. She poked at it again, wondering idly what would happen if she walked the Fade here, in this beautiful, peaceful place. Had there ever been a battle here? Would she see the remnants of a previous farm? Or had this always been as it was now, lightly settled farmland with a good view of the Frostback Mountains? Chasind stonework was everywhere in the valley, most of it related to Tyrdda Bright-Axe, so it seemed more likely that she would end up in the middle of some strange ceremony or other.

_"Tell the tale of Tyrdda Bright-Axe, mountain maker, spirit's bride:  
Free, her people, forged in fastness, made in mountains, hardy hide.  
Wise in wisdom, calm in counsel, great in gifts her grateful guests,  
Sacrificed she did to spirits, took their teachings, followed quests."_

She whispered the first few stanzas, smiling a little to herself. In the Kocari wilds with Caro, they had first heard the tale sung by an Avvar hunter to the stars at night. They'd traded him stories in return for a guide across the wilds, but he had, in the end, given him more than his fair share. His stories were older and made better for telling by the fireside.

"You're up early," Stanton commented as he took a seat across from her at the fire. He was carrying a mug in one hand and a covered, metal pot in the other. "Thought I'd get started with breakfast, if I was up."

"I'll help," she offered, feeling a little ashamed of herself for just sitting around and daydreaming. "What do you need?"

"Just some fresh water. Fill the cook pot, an' I'll get the porridge started," he said, hunkering down by the fire and pulling things out of one of the supply packs.

They sat by the fire while everything cooked, letting themselves wake up as the sun slowly rose over the distant hills. Once the porridge was bubbling, Stanton doled it out in steaming bowls and she passed him the honey and the bag of dried fruit. That with a cup of ice cold water from the stream made for a filling breakfast.

While they were eating, Stanton cleared his throat and gave her a sideways look, "So... ah, you're one of them elven mages from the woods?"

"Ahh, no," Melori eyed him for a moment, then shrugged. "I am not a mage. I'm a librarian and archivist ... and a historian, I suppose. Why did you think I was a mage?"

"Well, y'said yesterday that you'd seen blood mages before an' y'spent all that time talkin' to the apostate, so I thought you were one of them elven mages you see sometimes," he shifted uncomfortably and took another bite.

"I was born among the Dalish," she explained, taking care to avoid the topic of the Circle Towers. "But if I were a mage, do you think they'd have me out here in the Hinterlands searching out stories and artifacts? I have a knack for finding information and certain resources. That's all."

"Well, that's good then," he grunted, going back to his porridge.

Melori stared at him for a long moment, but couldn't find it in herself to be angry or even irritated. He wouldn't have understood, either way.

* * *

Caro woke up with a hangover, a pounding headache, and a blistering temper. Melori took one look at her and went back to the tent to finish getting ready, but Stanton made the mistake of saying 'good morning' in what Caro considered too cheerful a tone. As the Sergeant hadn't been cheerful since the day he'd met them, it was unlikely his greeting had gone anywhere near grumpy, much less cheerful - Melori thought 'surly' was a more accurate description. The Sergeant, however, took it all in stride and ignored them both until it was time to head out toward the canyon where the wolves had been until the Herald had cleared them out.

They had to cross the stream again, which was easier without all the sacks and books - the soldiers at the camp were sending those on to Haven on a cart, fortunately. But it was still ice cold and Caro bitched the entire way across - the water was too cold, her pants were now ruined, were they going to have to spend the entire day in wet trousers? Which may have been why neither she nor Melori noticed the bandits till Stanton said cooly, "Get yer heads down," and drew his sword.

Melori already had her staff in her hands, having used it to keep her balance while she crossed the stream, but her heart had begun pounding at the sight of the heavily geared men, and she froze. There were three of them, two with bucklers and thick metal helms and one with an axe. The bucklers went for Caro and Stanton, who had a sword and shield, but the axe came straight for Melori, who panicked at the last moment and ducked the first swing, the axe bouncing off the chainmail on her shoulder and knocking her off her feet.

Hitting the ground and feeling the chain mail tear from the shoulder of her armor seemed to shatter the paralysis that had gripped her. Melori took hold of her staff and made a desperate swing at the man's legs. He stumbled, giving her time to roll out of the way and back onto her feet. She held the staff in front of her, ignoring how her hands were shaking, and stepped into his next movement, hitting him squarely across the arm. He yelled and kicked out at her with a metal shod boot. Melori stumbled backward, reversing her grip as she'd been taught and blocking his next swing. He was bigger and heavier and when he pressed downward, her feet began to slip out from under her on the grassy embankment and she stumbled again, cursing aloud as she fell and nearly dropped her staff.

This wasn't anything like training.

The axe thudded into the ground next to her with bone rattling force, missing her by an inch. Without thinking, she grabbed hold of the long wooden axe handle with one hand, and, with the other, she shoved the end of her staff up and toward the bandit's face as hard as she could, using the smooth wooden handle to put more force into it. There was a cracking sound as her staff hit the grill on his helmet, shoving the entire bucket-shaped thing into his face.

He let go of his weapon and staggered backward, ripping his helmet off and tossing it to the side. Melori backed up a step, and then another. An ugly smile crossed the human's face as she retreated. He gave a shout and charged toward Melori like a bull, catching her at the waist with a metal clad arm that sent her flying across the grassy bank. She slid a little way, her head dazed and her left arm numb from the shoulder down. All the air had been knocked from her body, and she rolled to her side, trying to breathe. Her staff had flown several yards away.

There was a metallic, crunching sound as he pulled the axe free of the earth and started toward her. Melori closed her eyes and opened her palm - it would only take one strike and he would back away. The others were too busy with their own enemies to notice ...

"Mel!" Caro shouted, and Melori opened her eyes to see Stanton bearing down on the them, his shield high and his sword gleaming. The warrior with the axe turned his attention to the greater threat, and Melori watched in dazed fascination as Stanton took him down with a shield slam, then a kick that cracked the man's knee, followed by a fatal thrust of the blade. It happened so quickly, all she could do was lie there and gape.

" Are you all right?" Caro ran past Stanton and the dead man, dropping to her knees next to the elf.

"I ... I ... I'm not sure." She looked down at herself and found her hands were shaking.

"You've got blood all down your face," Caro said, tugging Melori into a sitting position and trying to get a good look at the other woman's eyes.

"She's concussed for a certainty," Stanton said. He was wiping his sword on the grass and frowning down at the dead men. "They were right about the bandits. These weren't the regular sort. Not by a long shot."

"He hit me like a druffalo," Melori said, blinking owlishly. "I think he even snorted."

"But you didn't let him kill you, that's something," Caro answered, shoving a healing draught into Melori's hand - fortunately not the one attached to the arm that was _really_ starting to hurt. She drank it with a grimace, but was able to stand a few moments later, the warmth of the potion easing the pains.

"I ...think I'm all right," She said, staggering a little to one side. Stanton grunted and put his hand under her elbow.

"Give it a minute," he said gruffly.

So she stood there and wiped at her forehead with her sleeve. Caro rolled her eyes and pulled a handkerchief out of a pocket and wet it in the stream before handing it over. "Feeling better now?"

"I think I'm going to hurt like hell tomorrow, but I'm good now," Melori said, wiping at her face and trying not to look at the blood on the cloth. Now that she was able to focus properly, she saw that neither Caro nor Stanton had come out of the fight unscathed. Caro had a rapidly blackening eye and a bloody cut on one arm, and their guardian had taken some heavy hits to his armor and was favoring his right leg, though he waved her off when she mentioned it.

"You've got no cause to be worrying over me," He said, glaring at them both. "There's work to do and the only thing I'm good for is making sure you survive doing it."

* * *

They found little in the canyon beyond some strange statuary and some wall carvings. That the wolves had been possessed by a demon was curious to Melori, but she could find nothing in the area to explain what, exactly, had happened. Disappointed, she and Caro cataloged what they had found in their journals and explained to Stanton that it had been a dead end.

"If there was ever anything here of importance, it's gone now," Caro said as they stood together at the entrance. "Still early yet, though."

"Just means it's time to see where we can lend a hand to the others back at camp," Stanton said. "I heard one of Requisitions officer was askin' about herbs."

"Adan asked me to cast my eye out for some rare plants, as well," Melori nodded as they began the hike back to camp. "Just hope we don't meet any more of those bandits ... well, mercenaries, I guess. Why do you think they're here? I can't think of a good reason for a group of mercenaries to be in the Hinterlands attacking the refugees. There's little left in the area for them to take, not with our forces already established."

"That's been botherin' me, too," Stanton said, glancing back at her as they carefully navigated the path along the top of the stream. "Must be somethin' we haven't found yet, or they're preparin' to move on RedCliffe."

Caro snorted at that, "_That_ would get the Queen's forces out here in a hurry. Can't see Anora sitting on her backside while armed troops move into Redcliffe castle."

"She's not done anything about the Templars or Mages, though, has she?" Stanton shook his head, "It's the Arl's responsibility to keep his own lands. Not sure why he hasn't done anything yet, though ..."

* * *

Once they reached the farm they were ordered to head to the Upper Lake Camp where a ruined tower stood on a rise just to the east of it. Apparently, it had been unapproachable until the Herald had closed a fade rift there, and now it was safe enough for a closer look. Sore as they were from the earlier fight, the trio made their way down the path to get a closer look. Melori was walking between the others, her nose in a map while she walked. Caro, used to this behavior, was acting as both their eyes, nudging the elf when there was something to step over or warning her before she could fall.

"Oh! This is Calenhad's Foothold," Melori said after a few minutes. "If it really is Calenhad's, it has been here four hundred years or more."

They walked through the broken wall and into the courtyard where the grass had grown long and the elfroot grew in abundance. The Order's banner had been placed inside the tower, showing that the Inquisition had claimed it. Melori sketched the painting on the interior wall into her journal and wondered what the Herald had made of it when she had stood inside the slowly disintegrating tower. They spent the rest of the day climbing around the broken bits of wall, looking for any hiding places earlier explorers may have missed. Stanton watched them from the ground, shaking his head when Melori was able to reach the top of the crumbled wall and the tower itself.

"You're going to break your necks, you are!" he called up in alarm.

They found a few oddments in the tower after digging around for a while. They spent maybe too much time on the wall, talking about other adventures, before jumping down into the grass, both of them smiling broadly. This was a beautiful place and something about it made Melori happier, banishing the remnants of the mage rebel's cavern and making her forget, for a moment, that she was going to be a ball of stiffness and pain come morning. They finished their notes, then spent the rest of the day gathering herbs before heading back to the camp, Stanton following along in weary silence.


	7. Chapter 7

_NOTES: CordovanLily asked: "Out of curiosity, will dear George be making an appearance in this story?" Answer: Someone's got to clean the latrines until Fate calls upon Him to make the Ultimate Sacrifice!_

_NOTE II: I promise we'll be seeing some of our old friends soon. For now, though, Melori's got some things to finish up before she can enjoy their company once more. _

_._

* * *

_._

_Life ... is not about how fast you run or even with what degree of grace. It's about perseverance, about staying on your feet and slogging forward no matter what.~_ Dean Koontz

.

* * *

They were roused in the dead of night by one of their own, a scout with that hollow, exhausted look so many of them had. The horses were brought round and the three found themselves on the road with a few others, keeping a quick and quiet pace through the dark. Caro was asleep in the saddle, but Melori was still aching from the previous day's fight and found each bounce of the saddle to be more excruciating than the last. There would be no stopping to stretch tired, bruised limbs, however. Artifacts discovered there proved the Storm Coast to be of vital importance to Inquisition movements, and more scouts were needed to collect what could be found as quickly as possible.

Along the Imperial Highway, the company stopped for food and supplies at a small village. They ate at the Tavern, enjoying the hot food and the quick break from riding. Caro, awake at this point, was telling them about a particularly wild night on the road home from the Korcari Wilds when the door to the tavern opened and a small group of Templars entered, each bearing the Inquisition symbol over their shoulder. Melori, who was sitting in the corner, shrank down a little and pretended not to notice them, but the leader, a tall, dark haired man with a distinctly Ferelden cast to his nose, saw Stanton and the group made their way over to the scouts' table.

"Sergeant?"

"Aye, that's me," Stanton stood and offered his arm in greeting. The Templar gripped it firmly and smiled.

"Hugh Vestor. I've new orders for you from Haven and there's a fresh horse," The Templar said, reaching into his belt to pull out a leather bound packet. "Commander Cullen said you knew the area of the Wilds where the soldiers were taken. They've requested that you head south immediately and rendezvous with our contacts there."

"Yes, Ser," Stanton tucked the parcel into his coat, then turned to gave the two women a short bow. "Well, that's that then. Listen to the knights here an' don't get yourselves killed."

"Wait," Caro said, blinking at the group, her voice tight with repressed panic. "Does this mean we're on our own?"

"Of course not!" Stanton rolled his eyes. "You'd both be dead in a day. No, Ser Vestor'll keep you alive up north. Do as he says an' you'll survive well enough. Maker keep you both."

* * *

"Do you think Simon's pining for me?" Caro asked a few hours later as they made their way further north. It had begun to rain and thunder rolled heavily through the air. Melori, who hadn't said much of anything since they'd got their new escort, had grown even quieter when the road curved close along the shore of Lake Calenhad. In the distance she could see the ghostly silhouette of a tall, ancient tower standing on a lonely island in the midst of the water. Pulling her gaze away, she pushed the memories out of her mind with an effort.

"He'd be a fool not to be, Caro," she answered.

"Hmm," the other woman nodded, tugging her hood higher against the driving rain. "I hope he is. It would be a sad thing to be the only one."

"You really have feelings for him," Melori said, distracted from her own morose thoughts. Caro ducked her shoulders and a blush rose along the pale cheeks.

"I can't stop thinking about the man," The human admitted, glancing over at Melori and smiling. "We haven't even kissed! I just ... " she sighed and they rode on for a while in silence. After a time, Caro looked past Melori toward the Lake and said, softly. "I'm sorry we had to travel this way, Mel'."

"It's all right ... there's no good way to avoid it. If I pretend it isn't there, it doesn't scare me quite so much," she admitted. Caro might not _know_ she was a mage, but she knew about the Circle Tower and that Melori had been there when it had all gone wrong. She'd interrupted too many of her friend's nightmares not to know.

"At least ... at least it wasn't so bad for us at the Archive, right?" She asked, pushing a lock of pale hair out of her eyes.

"That's true. It can always be worse." Melori lifted her head, looking out toward the Tower one last time before kicking her horse into a faster gait, feeling it's presence even as faded into the horizon.

* * *

Ser Vestor called a halt that night just shy of their destination. The storm had reached a violent pitch and descent toward the coast was dangerous enough in regular weather. Not that they weren't grateful to stop. They'd been riding since before dawn and Melori was fairly certain her body had gone numb from the waist down. Whatever pain they'd been in the previous day was going to be all the worse in the morning. She turned in the saddle to loosen her pack, then sat for a moment to consider how, exactly, she was supposed to dismount and maintain her dignity at the same time.

"Allow me," Ser Vector said, coming up alongside of her with a smile. She froze as he reached for her, but he only smiled encouragingly. She glanced over to see one of the other knights had already helped Caro dismount, so she sighed and put her hands on his armored shoulders, letting him help her to the ground ... and held on for a few moments afterward while her legs remembered how to hold her body upright.

"I... thank you," She said, realizing a moment later that she was still holding onto him. She let go and turned to get her pack while blushing to the tips of her ears.

"There is a shelter down the path from here. If you wait there, we will bring the equipment over to set up the camp," he answered with a bow. She nodded and gave him an awkward bob in return before following Caro to where a solid-looking shelter stood against the wind and rain. It had a roof and two sides enclosed with fire pits on the sides without walls. They put their packs down and then she and Caro set about starting one of the fires, using what was available on the site. It wasn't dry, exactly, but the roof had been built to shelter the fires from the winds off the coastline, and it was less wet than standing in the rain.

"We're going to shrivel up with all the water," Caro observed as they coaxed the kindling to light. Melori made a face, laughing at the idea.

"We'll be known as the scouts with the pruny fingers! I just wish I had dry small clothes. _Everything _is wet at this point."

"Oh gods, I'm dreaming of dry socks right now," Caro said, leaning back onto her hands and looking up at the mossy roof above their heads. "Everywhere we go you can hear us squelching in our boots."

"Do you remember when we fell into that pool in the Korcari and Sister Bethany found all those leeches?" Melori asked, "Oh gods. Her face when we got back to camp."

"I thought she was going to pass out." Caro chortled. "And then she wouldn't believe us when we told her the bridge had collapsed beneath us!"

"It's good to see smiles in this downpour," Ser Vestor said as the templars came up the path with the horses and their gear. "The fire is even better. Thank you."

"Don't let Melori cook dinner," Caro said, climbing to her feet and taking one of the packs from his hands. "She goes all dreamy eyed and everything burns."

"I do not!"

Caro just gave her a look and Melori subsided, climbing stiffly to her feet and helping set out the bedrolls. It was drier to the back of the shelter. One of the knights lit the other fire and the shelter grew warmer, bit by bit. Caro managed a passable stew for dinner, warming up what they'd purchased at the tavern earlier in the day, then they all sat in a huddle between the fires and ate, letting the warmth seep into their bones and chase away the damp.

"What happens when we get to the Coast?" Caro wanted to know.

"Ser Tillvan and I will continue with along with you," Ser Vestor answered between bites. "Roderyn and Alvern are helping to drive back darkspawn that have begun to emerge from caverns here and there along the coastline."

"Have they told you what we're looking for?" Melori asked, then flushed when all four men looked at her, realizing that she'd barely spoken a word to any of them since they'd met.

"Gray Wardens," Alvern answered. He put his empty bowl to the side and looked over to Vestor. "They've been up in the hills off the coastline, or so we've heard. Given that there's darkspawn about and the Inquisition could use their help, seems like a good idea to find them."

"We'd heard they'd all disappeared," Caro said, cleaning out her bowl with the last of her bread.

"That's what we're asking you to find out. If we can find any evidence revealing where they've gone, we might be able to locate them in time to help us." Vestor climbed to his feet, looking out into the rain. "Don't worry about the watch," he said, looking to Caro and Melori. "Just make sure to catch what sleep you can."

* * *

Melori lay awake for a long time that night. She was lying on her bedrolll, back to back with Caro, surrounded by sleeping Templars who were close enough to touch, if she had wanted to. The wind howled around the walls of the shelter, broken by the booming of the sea in the distance and the louder concussions of thunder overhead. The lightning, when it came, cracked and burned, calling to the power she dare not summon and tried very hard to ignore. She wrapped her arms tightly round herself, burrowing her fingers into her armor, and prayed to the Creators that she would not fall asleep and give herself away.

Sleep did eventually come, however, and she drifted for a time in the dark until a sudden, violent clash woke her with a start and she gasped, still half caught in the throes of a nightmare.

"Shhh. You're safe," a low voice said, and a hand reached out to touch her arm. For a moment, she wasn't sure who it was who spoke, but then she made out Ser Vector sitting on his bedroll beside her, his back against one of the wooden columns holding up the roof, his sword across his knees.

"The lightning ..." she said, shivering. "You can almost feel it, it's so near."

He smiled, the shadows and the firelight shivering across his face. "I wonder that the others can sleep."

"I didn't think I would," She admitted, pushing herself up and drawing her knees against her chest. "This is nothing like the expeditions I've been on in the past."

"Did you go on many?" He asked.

"No, not really. Most of the time I traveled with one of the scholars, like Genitivi or Master Herrol. He took me to Tevinter with him when I was ... twenty, I think. We traveled by cart and by boat, and never lacked for food or had to fight bandits."

"Tevinter?" He stared at her, one of his brows lifting. "That can't have been comfortable for you, as an elf."

She laughed. Tevinter was one of the memories she tucked into the shadows, that she tried to forget. "It was not at all comfortable. I had to pretend I was Herrol's slave - a scribe purchased to help him with his work. It did not ... go well. Even if this is a muddy great mess, it's better than that particular experience."

"I've been on enough campaigns to know what to expect," he said. "There's always mud and rain and blood, but little comfort."

"Then why ..."

"I gave an oath to serve," he answered, looking away from the rain to give her another smile. He had the sort of face that smiles well, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He was older than she had first thought, but had a youthful face. "I was in Kirkwall when the rebellion began and I saw what the Templars have become. I'd rather trudge through the rain and the muck, protecting people who want to help than support what happened there."

"We hadn't meant to join as scouts," she said, glancing over to where Caro was curled up beneath her blanket. "But when they found out we had experience in the field ..." she looked back at him. "It was a bit of a shock, honestly."

"Are you wishing yourself back in Haven?"

Melori thought about it a moment, then shook her head. "No. I suppose I ought to be, given the weather. But I don't mind. It's better to know what's going on than to sit in the background, waiting to be told."

* * *

The storm had passed by morning and they were able to travel down into the coast-lands without too much trouble, though the mud was bad enough that they'd had to dismount for a while and guide their horses along the path. Caro began her usual ranting at the mud and the rain and soon had everyone laughing as they slipped and slid and clung to their horses. They reached the Camp at the end of the trail to find, for once, that Scout Harding was still there giving orders to her scouts.

The dwarf took one look at their small company and shook her head, "Well, at least you're properly camouflaged." Which, after Caro's earlier exertions, dissolved everyone into helpless laughter once more.

"Right," Harding said. "Long road?"

"Quite long," Ser Vestor answered with a brisk nod. "But we're ready to move on your order."

"Good," She drew them over to look at the map, pointing out several specific locations. "The Herald's been through most of this, but there are bandits, bears, a dragon ... you name it, we've got it. The Gray Wardens seemed to have stayed in this particular area," she circled part of the map with a finger, "So concentrate on that. There are camps set here, here, and here."

"Is the dragon very active?" Vestor asked.

"Off and on," Harding frowned at the map, "But, so far, it hasn't attacked anyone and we haven't found its lair. You'll have more to worry about with the random darkspawn and the wildlife. The Herald's still in the vicinity. She picked up a mercenary group along the water just north of here, and they're helping us get things under control. And we just had word that the Hessarians have agreed to side with the Inquisition ... well, with the Herald, but it works out the same. They've agreed to give us support and are patrolling the hills along with everyone else."

Harding turned as a messenger called her name, and they walked back to where the Templars were waiting. Vestor and Tillvan clasped arms with Roderyn and Alvern, wishing them well. They then returned to where Caro and Melori were waiting and the group made their way on foot into the wilds of the Storm Coast.

* * *

"Is that a giant dwarf up there?"

"I believe that's exactly what that is, Caro."

"I thought the dwarves didn't build above ground," Tillvan said, coming up the trail behind them.

"They do if they want topsiders to notice they're there," Melori said. "This must have been some kind of trading post."

"Or the gateway to one of the old Cities," Caro noted. "If it is, there's a hole in the mountainside somewhere near here."

"I hope you don't intend to look for it," Vestor commented, climbing up the hill behind them. "We have things to do and there's no time for more. Even if a dwarven stronghold could prove valuable ... "

"You're right. If the dwarves collapsed it, that means there's darkspawn," Caro said, from where she was looking at one of the maps. "How long will it take us to get the camp in the hills? That's near to one of the locations marked on the map."

"Depends on the terrain," Melori looked around Caro's arm and pointing to one of the marks Harding had made - she was too short to see over her friend's shoulder without jumping. "That's along the way."

"We'll head there then," Caro smiled, folding the map and putting it away. "Best part of having an elf around: the innate sense of direction!"

"Riiight," Melori drawled. "You keep making that mistake with me."

"Melori has about as much directional sense as a drunken nug," Caro explained to Vestor and Tillvan. "If she tells you to go east ... don't do it. Go west."

"I'm not _that_ bad."

"You're close."

"I'm going to push you off this mountain, Caro. Just watch me do it."

"Hah! Gotta catch me first!"

"What are you ..? Dammit. Get back here, you mangy shem! I need to kick your ass!"


	8. Chapter 8

_I'll never forget that feeling  
When I watched you disappear  
And you made me stop believing  
I could fight away the fear ...  
_~ Ellie Goulding - Under Control

.

* * *

This forest was not like the others she knew, Melori thought as they walked through the bracken and the silt. It was neither dark nor deep, and the rain dripped constantly, making little thudding noises on her hood. She'd managed to shove her braid down the back of her shirt _just_ to keep her hood up, but it tickled when she walked. Vestor didn't appear to notice the wet and she envied him the ability to walk for miles without seeming to tire in all his heavy plate. Her armor was not nearly so heavy, but it clung to her in its sodden state, weighing her legs down as she moved.

They had walked for over an hour, climbing up onto the jutting hills until they located the first site that Harding had marked on their map. There'd been nothing there but a set of barely legible, mildewed orders. It seemed the Wardens had been looking for someone, but it wasn't clear who that was. Moving on, the group had come to the second spot on the map, searching for the remains of a campsite or ... well, anything else they could find. It was so wet everywhere she despaired finding any salvageable books or writings.

In the distance something large let out an echoing roar and she jumped, almost colliding with Caro, who cursed and fell over. Vestor, who was standing a few yards away, shook his head and gestured, "Dragon to the north. It's too far away to do us harm."

"Oh," Melori said, reaching down to help Caro to her feet. "Well, far away is good."

"You know, you jump at every little thing, Mel'," Caro said as she rose off the ground, then paused, narrowing her eyes and peering to the side. "Is that ... a bedroll?"

"Where?"

Caro pointed a few yard away to where a giant boulder was sunk deep into the ground, plants and trees growing in close profusion at its base. "When you helped me up, I saw something over there... I think it's what's left of a camp."

They plodded over, Melori feeling skeptical despite herself. This had, so far, been a rough, confusing day that had involved a lot of sludging around without finding anything. But when they climbed over a few rocks and slid down the other side, there was indeed an abandoned campsite hidden in a small space at the base of the boulder.

"Oh. I was almost scared to think you were right," She said to Caro, smiling for the first time in hours.

"It may not have anything to do with the Grey Wardens," Caro admitted, nudging an old crate with the toe of her boot. "I mean, it's been here a while."

"I don't think it's been that long, not in this weather. The salt coming off the sea would rot everything out pretty quickly," Melori answered, pushing the leaves aside to look more closely at the crate. It was unmarked, aside from a number stamped into the corner. "Do you have your little plybar? I want to see if I can get it open."

The water had swollen the wood, so it took some added effort, but she eventually worked the lid off with Caro's help. The crate contained an old, half-rotted cloak with a carefully stitched griffon on the chest, and a bundle of letters wrapped in waxed paper. It had been half-shoved beneath the rocky outcropping where they found it, and so, perhaps, was overlooked when the wardens left.

"It definitely belonged to the Wardens," Melori said, putting the papers and the cloak into her pack. " I don't want to open them here , though. Do you see anything else?"

"Just some bones by the fire ... nug, I think," Caro said. "Do you think any of that is important?"

"Well, this is definitely something," Melori answered. "It's not our job to decide if what we find is important, thankfully."

* * *

They moved on, hoping to get to the camp soon. They passed a few of the Hessarians in the forest, all of whom had seen the Inquisition seal and waved them away, but they saw no one else along their route. For the most part, the Storm Coast was proving to be a strange and solitary sort of place. The forest broke away ahead of them, the hill ending abruptly and falling into what appeared to be a river valley. Vestor led them away to the east and they found a place where they could scramble down in relative safety, stepping out into the flatter area at the river banks.

They were about to move forward again when Tillven held up a hand, and gestured for them to begin backtracking. "Bear ahead," He said quietly as they made a broad circuit around. "Had a ram in his sights or we'd be in the thick of it now."

"Thank you for the warning," Caro whispered back.

Further to the south, they could see the signs of darkspawn, and decided to climb back into the hills, though the way was treacherously steep. Caro slipped at one point and it took both Melori and Tillvan, who were behind her, to keep her from tumbling to her death.

"I think I'll be glad to leave this place," the human said when they reached the top of the rise, her face nearly as pale as her hair.

"I would second that," Vestor agreed as he helped each of them to the top of the rise. "It is worse here than I imagined it would be."

They found the camp after another hour and a half of hiking. More bears had required they backtrack several times, but there were not yet darkspawn on the hills. Even the Templars were starting to look tired, their faces drawn behind their helms. When they saw the guards at the camp ahead, the entire party gave a sigh of relief.

"We got a raven that you were on your way," one of the scouts there said as they trudged into camp. "Glad to see you made it. We've got a couple of caves along the coast and there's a dwarven door we'd like you to see. Are either of you good with locks?" the woman wanted to know, looking between Caro and Melori.

"We're not experts, but we've had to pick a few open in the past," Melori answered, her interest peeking at the mention of a 'locked dwarven door' despite her exhaustion. Then again, picking a door built by a dwarf was an exercise in futility, generally speaking. "Probably better to use a battering ram if it's dwarven work."

"I was afraid of that. Still, you're gonna have to look at it first. Though, from the look of you lot, food and sleep are the main things on your mind?" The scout leader smiled.

"I could eat a giant," Caro groaned. "Then sleep for a year."

"We've got hot stew and a dry tent."

"That'll have to do."

* * *

They were up before dawn the next morning, having fallen asleep at dusk the day before. Melori had gone through her gear, discarding various things she didn't need and making sure they had the Warden cloak and papers safely stored at the camp. The plan was to pick them up on their way out, or, if a better armed group came through before they could leave, to send the papers on with them. Word around the camp was that the Herald had passed through the night before, and the mercenary group was camped in the hills not too far away. It was still raining, of course.

"So," Caro said over breakfast, "Dwarven ruins are never safe."

"Never," Melori agreed, her mouth full of porridge and dried fruit.

"But they're sometimes full of marvelous, _useful_ things," Caro continued. "Not just books or tomes or scrolls or, being dwarves, giant walls of carved script. There are forges and metals and weapons. Problem is, most of them are attached to the Deep Roads, and the Deep Roads are full of darkspawn."

"And that's why opening a locked door on a dwarven ruin can quickly turn into a tragedy," Melori added, gesturing with her spoon.

"We're going to try to open this thing, whatever it is," Caro said. "But we might have to run away once we do."

"We will not allow you to be killed by darkspawn," Ser Vestor said soberly, though his eyes were crinkled at the corners, a smile hidden in his voice.

"The point is that we don't want you to be killed by them any more than we want to die by them."

"I see," Vestor glanced at Tillvan, who shrugged.

"I have no objections to running from darkspawn," the other Templar said.

"Then we shall run if we are outnumbered," Vestor said, bowing his head to the two women.

"Oh good," Caro exhaled. "I was afraid you'd insist it was ignoble."

"The darkspawn do not care for honor," said Vestor. "Therefore they deserve none from us."

* * *

The weather wasn't _better_ that day, but it was clearer and less wet, which was an improvement, though a heavy fog had drifted in, giving the world a weird, ghostly quality. Still, their clothes were no longer sodden, which made everything just a little bit easier. They were able to hike to the end of the coast in relative comfort. Along the way, they passed some of the mercenaries, who saluted smartly before going back to their drinking and sparring. Vestor watched them with a frown as they passed by.

"I take it the Templars are better disciplined?" Melori asked, catching his expression.

"Generally, yes," He said. "We have to be, given our purpose."

"Ah, herding mages."

He glanced at her for a long moment, and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck crawling, but he said, "I believe we are to protect our charges, from others as much as from themselves."

"I see. I've met few mages who needed protection," she said, quite aware as she said this that the staff in her hands was probably not the best thing to be carrying while discussing this particular topic.

"Had you been in Kirkwall ..."

"I was in Ferelden," she said, looking at the ground. "Cataloging for one of the Senior Enchanters at the Circle Tower. The only reason I'm here today is because Senior Enchanter Wynne and the Hero of Ferelden saved my life. They are both mages, you know."

"So you see no purpose in my calling?" He asked, and she turned her head, looking him in the eye for a long moment. He did not flinch away.

"I think your vows could serve in better ways," She said carefully, beginning to walk once more. "There is no harm in stopping maleficarum or guarding mages, but every time a mage rebellion begins or a Circle Tower erupts into chaos, it is because the mages had been backed into a corner. I'm a librarian. I've read the histories ... I've read journals and letters written on both sides. It is as though these things happen and then everyone forgets why ... and it happens again and again."

He was silent for a space after that, and she feared she had angered him, though she wasn't particularly sorry for it. She had never before been able to stay these things to anyone, much less a Templar. If she regretted anything, it was because she liked Ser Vestor and had no wish to anger him.

"Everything changes," he said when they had begun to descend in the rocky valley, the collapsed gates of the dwarven city visible in the distance through the moving fog. "Even the Templars. I will think about what you have said."

"That's all anyone can ask," she smiled at him, then pointed ahead with her staff. "Shall we take a closer look?"

* * *

"Damn dwarven doors," Melori muttered, stepping back to stare at the ancient door they'd been attempting to open. Nothing worked. Without a key or a battering ram (and she had doubts about the ram), there was no way inside. "I don't think we can get in there today. Not without help."

"What I'm curious about," Caro said, her voice loud above the sound of the waves just to their right. "Is why would they build this _here_? There's a city gate less than a mile away."

"Well ... it's on the coast, right? And the dwarves who aren't crafters are merchants..."

"You think this is a port?" Caro tilted her head, thinking it over. "You may be right."

"So, if we were to go around ... maybe take a boat out?" Melori tapped her staff onto the stone at her feet, deep in thought. "It has to open up somewhere or there'd be no point to it."

"Could be why they built those stupidly huge statues on the ridge tops," Caro said. "You could _definitely_ see that from a distance out at sea. What if they lit them up at night?"

"Exactly! The Inquisition could do a lot with a fortified seaport in this area ... but where do we find a boat?" Melori asked.

"I don't think we do. All the violence along the shoreline here has kept the merchants away for some time. I don't know that there are any boats to be had ... and then there's the dragon. Can't imagine it's safe to be out on the water with that around." Caro sighed.

"Oh."

"Yeah," They leaned against the wall, staring at the door with matching frowns. "Guess we should go tell Vestor and Tillven ..." Caro said, pushing herself away from the stone.

The Templars were standing on the beach, just outside the entry where Caro and Melori had been working. "Any luck?" Vestor asked as they approached.

"None," Melori answered, kicking at the rocks on the beach in frustration. "We think it's the entrance to some kind of dwarven seaport, but we have no way to get inside and my _brilliant idea_ to use a boat is impractical due to the dragon."

"Can we at least go look at the city gate?" Caro asked, "I've never seen one of those up close, and I doubt I'll ever get to Orzammar. Please?"

"It might give us a clue on how to get through here," Melori said, then shrugged. "Or not. But we should check it out, all the same."

The Templars looked at one another and Tillvan nodded, "As long as we are not out in the open too long."

* * *

The ancient gateway was ominous in the drizzling rain, surrounded by tumbled stone and huge, broken pillars. It had been built in another age during a time of prosperity and legend, but now it seemed ghostly, a skeleton of what had come before. Melori reached out to touch one of the pillars as they passed, marveling at the sheer size of it. "What did this?" she asked aloud.

"Perhaps there was an Arch Demon here at some point," Vestor said, his hand on his sword hilt, though he seemed fairly calm. "I do not feel this is the safest area."

"We'll hurry," Melori said, and jogged to catch up with Caro, who was standing in front of the massive, broken gates, her jaw hanging open.

"The _size_ of it, Mel'," she said in a hushed tone. "They must have designed it to fall in case of attack. Look at how the rock is stacked ... It wasn't accidental."

"No, it wasn't," the elf agreed, feeling very small at the base of the mountain, the huge dwarven shadow looming above ... the long, serpentine tail flicking just behind the stoned dwarf's leg. A bolt of icy fear and nausea hit her and she reached slowly over, grabbing hold of Caro's hand. "C-Caro ... "

"Hmm?"

"Caro, just ... back up. Slowly." Melori's heart was thundering in her chest. The tail flicked again, sending rocks sliding down the mountainside. Caro gave a little gasp and moved closer to Melori. "Maker help us."

They moved slowly, carefully down the rock strewn mountainside, not daring to take their eyes from the creature above them, half-hidden behind the statue that stood so solidly above the shattered gate. They hadn't even made it a quarter of the way down the hill when the creature curled it's long neck around the statue, it's breath making a loud, rattling sound as it tilted it's head to stare down at them. They froze, too afraid to move, and it shifted, curling its claws to grasp hold of the ancient dwarven stone.

"Run. Run. Run." Melori said, turning with Caro's hand still in hers, and racing as fast as she could down the broken, ragged mountainside. She could see the Templars heading up toward them, their shields and blades glittering in the gray light. They would be safe, she thought, if she and Caro could get behind one of the massive, fallen columns, if only for a moment. But then the dragon roared and blue-white energy came crackling down the incline, exploding off every surface in a rain of arcs and bolts. Caro gave a sudden gasp and her hand tightened convulsively on Melori's, dragging her down to the ground as the human woman fell.

"Caro!" Melori cried out, slipping against the rocks as she tried to pull her friend back to her feet. Vestor and Tillven thundered past her, their armor singing as the dragon's energy bounced off their shields. Melori felt the them air around them surge and grabbed Caro around the waist with both her arms, dragging the human across the rock and stone, until they fell together behind the massive stone block.

"No ... no ..." she pushed Caro onto her back, terrified at the whiteness of the other woman's face, her blue lips, and staring eyes. Her hands scrabbled, trying to find the healing potions, trying to _think_ what to do. She could hear them shouting above her, hear the dragon scream in rage ... and felt the concussion as the creature's body struck the column behind which she crouched.


	9. Chapter 9

_There are so many little dyings that it doesn't matter which of them is death._  
~Kenneth Patchen

.

* * *

The impact shattered the stone above Melori's head and threw her down the mountainside with the force of a ballista, her body coming to a stop when she struck another column and slid off the other side. She lay there for what seemed a long, long time, gasping for air and finding none, the world swimming with color and blurring sickeningly. She could hear shouts in the distance and the roar of an angry beast, but it seemed so far away. The only thought she could find, the only thing she could cling to, was the angry, violent necessity of going back to Caro, who lay silent and still at the base of the mountain because Melori could bear the storm dragon's breath and she could not.

Her hands moved first, and then her breath came back. She gasped and coughed, realizing as she opened her eyes that she was lying on her side, her face pressed against the rain slicked stone. There was blood on her tongue, in her mouth. She could taste the bitter copper of it as she sought to rise, pushing herself up inch by agonizing inch ... only to fall and scream as pain erupted like swift fire through her left leg.

Feet pounded past her, but she did not heed them. The dragon roared again and again and she heard, above everything, someone laughing with fierce, exultant joy. It all blurred together, like a nightmare full of sound and pain, and she drifted, wondering idly if this was the end. She hoped that Vestor and Tillven would not die because of her mistake. And she thought, for the first time in a very long time, that she was no longer afraid of the end.

* * *

It was night when Melori drifted back into consciousness. The stars were scattered across the axis of the sky, blazing above her in what was, she thought, the first time the rain had stopped since she'd got here. The sound of the surf muted nearly every other sound. It occurred to her that she had been forgotten or lost – whichever was most true, and remaining where she was would mean a long and depressing death. Shifting carefully, forcing her limbs to move, and bracing for the great wave of pain to wash over her, she managed to sit upright, though it cost her.

The left side of her body was a blaze of agony and she rested, panting as she focused on waiting it out. There were things broken inside of her and she didn't want to think about what that meant, not when all her healing potions had broken and she had nothing but the elfroot in her side-pouch. Chewing the leaves helped so little with the pain that she spat them out and lay back against the rocks, though the longer she was awake, the colder it seemed. Moving was out of the question – every time she jostled her leg black spots danced in front of her vision and she felt like throwing up.

There was but one thing for it, though Melori wasn't certain she had the energy. She patted around in her pockets, looking for the little, glowing blue vial Solas had kept from shattering the night before leaving Haven. It was where she had left it, tucked beside her battered journal, a long line across the glass from where she had fallen, but not broken, not like the healing philters – which would have been of far better use. Lacking those, she would need the power to warm herself, so this was necessary, too.

Pulling the cork out of the bottle seemed a monumental task with her half-numbed hands and muddled head, but she managed it, part of the glass breaking away in the process. Lyrium tasted oddly metallic and almost sweet, bursting on her tongue in electric pops and tingles before racing into her veins. As her power grew, it expanded her vision so that everything around her seemed limned with light, and it took effort to bring herself back down to earth – the pain helping to anchor her.

Fire was not her natural element, though it was close, and, thankfully, she didn't need a blazing inferno just to dry her clothes or to warm her body. She'd done it before, in the Library when she grew cold over a night's work – a little spell to warm her, something no one would notice. Melori sighed in relief as her body stopped shaking and her hands felt less numb. Weariness was drawing nearer and she felt her eyes sliding closed. Almost she let herself fall into the dark, but there was one task yet remaining before she could let go.

Holding her hands in front of her, Melori concentrated on summoning her energy, on building between her palms an orb of light as she had been taught in the Circle Tower. As a child it had been but a small thing, a little globe that gleamed and glowed, but this was larger, wilder. It crackled and hissed, and would have burned her fingers had she not been the summoner. When it was large enough and she had no more energy to give, as the darkness stole across her vision like a thief, Melori threw the snapping, angry thing into the sky and saw it explode even as she let the darkness steal her away.

* * *

"Ser! I found her!"

Rough hands touched her face and throat. She heard them speaking, asking her if she could hear them, if she could open her eyes. She tried to speak but began to cough instead, each motion wracked with pain. Someone grabbed her hand, held it and she heard a familiar voice. "You're safe now. Just hang on a little longer."

"That looks bad," someone said, a deep voice with an odd accent. Another hand touched her face and she flinched. Everything hurt. "Are they coming with a stretcher?"

"Yeah, but I don't know how we're supposed to mover her, Boss. Can't tell how bad hurt she is with all the gear," the first voice said.

"She's too warm." The familiar voice sounded worried as hands moved over her body, causing her to flinch and groan. "Broken ribs … and that leg."

_What about Caro?_ she thought, and her hand twitched in the one holding it as she struggled to open her eyes, to form the words. One of her eyes, the left, slid open a little and she saw Vestor looking down at her, a frown between his dark eyes. "C... Caro?," she managed, her voice rough and barely there.

"I'm sorry," she felt him squeeze her hand, his voice grave but clear. He knew what it was to lose a companion and that she would injure herself further if he did not tell her – and it goes against a Templar's honor to lie. "She didn't make it, Melori."

It wasn't as though she hadn't known, but hearing him say it made it real. Tears leaked out of her good eye and stung at the one that had swollen shut. Sorrow added to the weight and she wasn't strong enough for it, not yet.

"Lie still. Help is coming."

Melori closed her eyes and exhaled, trying not to lose what little was holding her together. She took another, deeper breath and hissed as pain spread through her chest. Oh gods. It hurt to breathe. Everything hurt except the grip on her hand, strong and firm.

* * *

They had to splint her leg in the field. One of the Chargers, the mercenaries who had helped to find and rescue her, gave her enough whisky to numb a horse before they started and she still screamed until she passed out. When she woke again, Vestor was sitting next to her, his sword on the floor beside him. He explained that they would be moving her in the morning, taking her out of the Storm Coast to where a healer could mend her leg and ribs. He apologized for not saving Caro, his voice rough.

She held his hand and fell back into the dark and the dreams.

"It wasn't your fault," Caro said. They were curled together in the aravel Melori's mother kept. It was late in the night and there were fireflies in the dark outside the window. Melori laid her head against her friend's shoulder and wept. Fingers stroked through her hair and Caro repeated, "It's not your fault, Melori."

"But it is. It is. I could have protected you. I _should have_."

She wept until there were no more tears, knowing it was a dream, knowing that she was in the Fade. It didn't matter. Whatever Caro was, whether a dream, a spirit, or a demon, she was real here, she was alive. They spoke of the way the wind rocked the aravel, of the way Simon would look when next he saw Caro's face, of all the things that might have been. It was bittersweet. It hurt viciously. The wound in her soul was ragged edged and crimson deep, but she welcomed the pain, the guilt, the comfort.

"You have other things to worry about," Caro said softly as the light began to change. "The Templar _knows_."

* * *

They traveled to the Imperial Highway, leaving the Storm Coast behind them. Melori had been in enough pain that the trip was not much more than a hazy memory by the time they'd arrived at the Healer's house a few miles north of the old Circle Tower. She felt drawn and old, unable to move or even feed herself without help. She'd been grateful that the Chargers, who had escorted them that far, had a few females among their number -especially the other elf who was most certainly _not_ a mage. That had been startling, to say the least.

The healer reset the broken leg, which was not the best experience in Melori's life. With magic, it wasn't as bad as breaking it or having it splinted, so she did not complain, though she had definitely wanted to yell. The healer, an old woman with a deeply lined face and calm green eyes, had been one of the Circle mages before the mage rebellion and was a master of her craft. Over the space of a week, she patched Melori back together until the elf could limp around with the help of a cane.

Vestor stayed with her through the healing process. He would wait outside while the mage worked on Melori's broken bones, but the moment they opened the door, he was there, helping her from treatment to bed and back again. He held her hand, now and then, and told her stories about his life among the Templars to take her mind off the pain and the discomfort of healing. She thought he was waiting till she was well to ask about her magic.

"You know," he said on the last day, as he packed their gear while she hobbled around the room on her cane. "The leader of the Chargers helped us because of your hair?"

"He what?" she wobbled a moment, turning to look at him with surprise. "What does my hair have to do with anything?"

"He said he had a weakness for red heads," the Templar answered, his lips quirking into a smile.

Melori laughed, feeling her skin flushing. "Mythal help me, I'll never be able to speak to him."

"I doubt you'll be given a choice in the matter," Vestor said, reaching out to tug at one of her gold-red locks. Their eyes met, and she felt her blush deepen at the look she found there. Melori turned away, her face burning. He was a handsome man, tall and dark-eyed, but she had not until that moment thought of him as anything but the Templar. The realization that he was more, that he was looking at her in that way frightened her a little.

"I… I'll just have to brave it out then," she said, grabbing hold of one of the robes the healer had given her. She rolled the soft cloth and set it into her pack with nervous hands, her breath catching when he stood and stepped close behind her, his hands moving to her waist.

"I can see what he likes about the red," he said softly, just behind her ear, so close to her that she could feel him breathing.

"Vestor, I …"

But he let go of her before she could continue. She heard the door close behind him as he left the room, and found she had to sit down, for her legs had gone to jelly and one of them was already in a sorry state.

* * *

The road back to Haven was incredibly uncomfortable. After two weeks with the healer, they'd joined a small group of Inquisition troops on their way to join the main forces, but were too slow to keep up properly with Melori's stiff and healing leg. She was forced to ride side saddle, more or less, and Vestor had taken to holding her horse's lead because Melori had a tendency to nod off at random moments, and her horse liked to stop and eat the grass at the side of the road when she wasn't paying attention.

Every now and then he would look back at her as though to say something, but he never did. His jaw would tighten and he would turn, staring at the road ahead with great concentration. Melori watched his back, too tired to ask him why and too uncertain of her own feelings on the matter to want to press deeper. She kept remembering the expression in his eyes, and it left her floundering, uncertain of whether she reciprocated what she'd seen there or if she was afraid of it.

Caro would have explained it to her, she thought. That was what Caro had _always_ done. She knew what Melori was feeling before the elf did and always had. "I miss you," she whispered, wincing as the horse stumbled, her fingers clutching the pommel of the saddle. She already knew that while the pains in her body would fade, the loss she'd experienced was a pain that would never heal; it might subside, over time, but there would always be that bright, slicing realization that Caro was gone and they would not make fools of themselves in the tavern ever again or finish one another's sentences or irritate Stanton beyond all reason.

Haven was a different place than it had been a month before. There were far more tents, for one thing, and the troops outside the gate looked harder now than they had before. They saluted Ser Vestor as the two rode past, and Melori found herself wishing she didn't look as she imagined she must – pale and thin, wearing a robe far too large for her frame, her fingers clinging to the pommel like some fainting lady in a novel.

"Hey, Vestor!" Someone called across the din of swords and soldiers. Melori looked up to see another Templar, followed by Commander Cullen, approaching the gate. Vestor returned their greeting and dismounted, grasping arms with the man who had called his name. She knew better than to risk her leg by dismounting alone, so, while the men spoke to one another, she let herself doze a little, having grown sleepy under the bright sun despite the chill mountain air. She woke barely a breath later to the sound of her name and turned to see Commander Cullen looking up at her. He held up his hands to help her down off the horse and she realized he must have been standing there, waiting for her to respond.

"I'm sorry," she said, her face flaming. "I didn't know you were there, Ser."

"You were having a bit of a nap," he answered, his lip curving up to the side. Melori was suddenly reminded of what Caro had said, long and loudly, about Commander Cullen's mouth and felt herself grow redder still as he continued speaking. "I think Ser Vestor is required elsewhere for the moment."

She nodded and turned, putting her hands on his shoulders as he helped her down from the saddle. He held her upright while she got her balance in the snow, reaching across the saddle to untie her staff. She thanked him gratefully as he handed it to her and waited to see that she was steady on her feet before he let her go.

"Welcome back to Haven, Enara. We have a few things to discuss."

* * *

Melori followed Cullen through the Gate and up to one of the nearer houses. He opened the door and she proceeded him inside, noting that it had been turned into a makeshift office. There was a bed to one side of the desk, and both were covered with reports and ledgers. Fortunately, there was an empty chair to one side and he allowed her to take a seat before he began to speak.

"The papers they brought back from the Grey Warden site," he began, hands folded behind his back. "Do you know what they contained?"

She'd been expecting a reprimand, not a question, so it took Melori a few moments to gather her thoughts at the question. "No. I kept them as they were so the rain wouldn't ruin them. If I'd opened them, they would have got wet. It rained for days and days along the coast."

"Good," he approved, pacing as he spoke. "We need you to take a look at them now. We've acquired a Grey Warden as an ally, but he is not aware of what has happened to the others of his order. Those papers are the last bit of information we have right now, and no one here wants to touch them for fear of damaging the information they contain."

"I can do anything that doesn't require me to walk quickly," she said, holding tightly to her staff. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get back, given the circumstances."

"Yes," he paused in his pacing, his expression turning grim. "I heard about the dragon, of course."

"The Chargers and Ser Vestor made short work of it, I hear," Melori said, feeling immensely tired as she spoke.

"It is never easy to see another fall in battle," he said, rubbing at his face. She thought he looked tired, which might explain how his bed had come to be covered in such piles. "The scouts have the most dangerous jobs of all, and the two of you were never meant to face a dragon."

"We didn't so much face the dragon as try to get away … though we were not quick enough," she answered, looking away. Her throat seemed to close on the words and she cleared her throat, ignoring the pricking of tears at her eyes. "There are likely better ways I can still serve."

"I agree. Leliana will send the papers to your quarters," he said, helping her rise and walking her to the door. He paused before opening it. "She has asked that you be assigned to her service, given her position as spymaster. I have agreed to it, though it may be no safer than what you have faced so far."

"So, no more Scout Enara?" she asked, bemused.

"No, no more Scout Enara," he chuckled, "I'm not sure what rank you will have, but your quarters will be better and you'll have access to whatever supplies you require."

Her eyes rounded, "Thank you."

"Do you need help getting there?" He asked, opening the door for her.

"It depends on where 'there' is?" She said, blinking in the bright light.

"The Chantry," he smiled again. "Ah, I see your protector is already waiting for you. Good luck, Enara."

"May the Creator keep you, Commander," she said. When she turned, Vestor was there to walk her up to the Chantry and her new assignment. She looked back to watch the Commander's back as he returned to the Gate and his men, then turned and made her way in the opposite direction, wondering what would become of her next.


	10. Chapter 10

NOTE: She knows that Vestor knows and Solas knows, but Cullen doesn't know. Bull and Varric don't care. Leliana knows everything already anyway (ravens like to gossip). George knows, but he's busy. Latrines are hard work.

NOTE II: Exercise will help Melori get the use of her leg back more quickly, and swords-training makes the most sense since there's always someone sparring in Haven. :D Also, imagining her in a helm and all that armor makes me laugh.

NOTE III: Thank you all my reviewers. You have all made me smile so hugely today, and it was a rough day. So, thank you :) *HUGS*

* * *

.

_Oh, my friend, it's not what they take away from you that counts. It's what you do with what you have left. ~ _William Cowper

.

* * *

The following days were busy ones. Leliana gave Melori little time to dwell on her pain or her losses, and instructed Vestor, who had apparently been given the task of keeping the Librarian intact, to make sure her training would expand beyond, as she put it, 'whacking things with sticks.' This meant going down the lists and spending several excruciating hours every day under the torture … tutelage of the swords master, who acknowledged Melori's injured leg, but insisted that she exercise it.

"A staff is fine for me! We can even put a blade on the end of it, like the mages do!" She protested after the first session, groaning in pain beside the fire while holding a cloth bag of ice against her thigh. Her leg had gone from the yellow and green of nearly healed bruising back to somewhere closer to purple and she was having trouble standing on it. Vestor, sitting in the chair near the fire, simply laughed and tossed her a healing potion.

"Unless you can sling energy about like a mage, that staff is not enough," he insisted, refusing to argue, though she recognized the words he left unsaid. He knew what she was and this was how he meant to challenge her - or maybe she was just being paranoid. "Exercising your leg will give you back its use, so I don't see why you're whining."

"I'm not being given a choice here, am I?" She glared. Melori hadn't been what she was for so long because she lacked stubbornness. For most of her life, that had been all she had. "It'll be the first time anyone trained a librarian to sword fight, though."

He shook his head, a small smile crossing his face. "There's a first time for everything."

* * *

It was a glorious, sun-bright, snowy day. According to reports, the Herald was somewhere in the Fallow Mire, and Melori had spent the morning learning Leliana's specific cipher in order to un-code the messages operatives in the field were sending to Haven. It was not unlike translating an ancient glyph or phrase, something she found fascinating. Even better, she took felt a small delight in knowing what was going on and who was doing what. Being so near the center of things, she couldn't help but find it exciting.

As the sun crested at noonday, Vestor appeared outside Leliana's tent, his armor gleaming almost blindingly under the sun, and Melori found herself shooed outside by the Divine's Left Hand. "Do not forget to keep your guard up, my friend. We still have need of your skills here."

"Thank you … I think?"

The lists were full of sparring men and women, some of them using metal and others using wooden swords. Vestor helped tie her into the padding she would need, then strapped her into a light plate cuirass and dropped a sallet onto her head, fastening it with a strap beneath her chin. It was all heavy and she made a bit of a squeaking noise when he grabbed hold of the breastplate and shook it to make sure it was fitted properly.

"Can you see?" He asked, bending down to peer at her face through the helmet opening.

"More or less," She answered, feeling twenty times the fool. Caro would have been laughing her ass off at this point. "It seems a little … heavy."

"That's the lightest armor we have," he smiled, tapping the top of the helm. "Now, if anyone but Kessing asks to spar with you, say no. You're not ready yet. If Lady Cassandra wants to spar with you, run away. Got it?"

"I thought Lady Cassandra was in the Fallow Mire?"

"Oh, you think this will all be over in a week?" He asked, grinning in what Melori considered an evil way. He shoved a wooden board at her and helped her slide it onto her arm.

"I think you're enjoying this too much," she answered, limping heavily over to where Kessing, the swordsmaster, was waiting and bowing as Vestor had taught her.

"Left leg?" Kessing, a tall, stone-faced woman from the heart of Ferelden, asked.

"Yes, Ser."

"We'll try not to rebreak it."

Melori swallowed and held up her shield.

* * *

Three days later and the healer put Melori on bedrest. She was not to move her leg, she was to lie still, and if she was well enough after a day abed, she _might _be allowed to go back to swords practice. So far, the forced quiet had led to her begging Vestor to bring her anything he could find for her to read. She was halfway through _The Minotaur of Denerim _and trying very hard not to throw the book across the room, when the door to her cabin opened and a softly spoken, "_Aneth ara, Lethallan,"_ drew her attention. The book dropped to her lap and she smiled.

_"Aneth ara, Solas_," She said, bowing her head.

He stood in the doorway, letting the chilly air blow past him as he studied her and she studied him in return. She wondered how he could look so much the same when so many things had happened since they'd seen one another last. When she shivered, he shut the door and came to stand by her bedside, an odd expression on his face.

"What is it?" She asked.

"I heard of your misfortune, but I had not understood the depth of the injury," he explained, reaching down to take her hand. "_Ir abelas, ma'falon._"

"The fault was my own," she said, looking down at her lap. "You were right to question what I was. I should have admitted it."

"That does not mean you could have changed the outcome," he said. "The last time I saw a dragon in close proximity, it was the blade that bore it to ground and not magic. Your magery would not have saved you, _Lethallan_, and it would not have saved your friend."

Tears, unwelcome but insistent, fell down Melori's cheeks and spilled into her lap, onto the cover of the book there. She wiped at them with the back of her free hand, almost surprised that she was crying. "But I would have _done something. _I could have shielded her or protected her and we could have run away."

"Perhaps you are right," he said, sitting onto the bed, her hand still held in his. "I fear though that you hide your sorrows too deeply, _ma'falon._"

"They are not safe to air," she answered, giving him a crooked sort of smile. "You are the only one who truly knows what might have been. Do you think I deserve no blame?"

"I think you wish to atone where no atonement is needed," he answered. "What is done, is done."

He sat with her for a time until she was able to stop the tears, and then he told her of places he had seen in the Fade, of battles and castles and ancient magics. The guilt remained, but by the time sleep had claimed her, her heart was calm.

* * *

"Nothing fits me now," she told Leliana, pulling her pants out from her waist. "I've had to put another notch in my belt and it looks like I'm wearing pantaloons in some old Orlesian style."

"You could go back to wearing robes," the other woman said. "Though I think that would be less than ideal when you are training."

"True," Melori sighed, going back to the Warden papers. So far she'd managed to dry them without ruining anything, but they'd been written in a cipher she hadn't been able to break on her own. "Whoever they were after in the Storm Coast must have been important," she said, scanning over the few pages she'd been able to read. "They seem to have sent Wardens out all over the north of Ferelden looking for him."

"So the papers are recent," Leliana said, looking over the elf's shoulder. "Perhaps this is what drew them away? It seems very odd to me."

"It's … very odd for Wardens, particularly," Melori answered, reaching forward and stretching like a cat. "Normally they come and go between Blights, though they maintain a presence in the Anderfels, but they _never_ completely disappeared. When that happens, according to the records, the darkspawn show up, like liquid out of a leaking tap."

"That is a disturbing thought, is it not?"

"Very." Melori stood and pushed her chair back against the table. It was late and the Chantry was better lit than the tents outside, so she was working there for now. Leliana usually appeared sometime in the middle of the evening and joined her for a while to go over the cipher before wandering off to talk to Josephine. Tonight, though, Melori wanted a breather. "I'm going to head out now. Do you need me for anything else?"

"I have something to tell Josie, so that is fine with me," Leliana smiled. "Just don't forget to come back tomorrow? I wouldn't want to hunt you down."

"I won't," Melori promised and took her leave. It had been several weeks and her leg only twinged on the cold nights now. Vestor was, for once, meeting with the other Templars to discuss their future and the likelihood that the Inquisition would try to win the support of their Order in the fight against the Elder One. That meant this was a night on her own, without anyone keeping an eye on her … and that was a strange and dissatisfying thought. As much as she liked Vestor, she truly was not certain what to do with him. Had she ever thought she'd end up with a Templar following her around everywhere, she'd have run away from the Inquisition the moment they reached the Hinterlands.

"Dammit," She muttered, turning to take the path toward the Tavern. At least she'd have a drink while she was alone for the night. If he returned and she nailed him with drunken lightning, it would be his own fault for being so ... _there_ all the time.

* * *

About two hours and many tankards later ...

"So, Librarian," Varric said. "I hear you've taken up the board and blade!"

"I have!" She answered, blinking at him owlishly, her brows high and her words enunciated ve-r-y care-fu-ly. "Kessing's kis … kic … kicking my _ass_."

The table laughed at that, and Kessing, who was sitting at the other end, lifted her tankard high into the air, "And a fine ass it is, too!"

"Is she any good?" Varric wanted to know.

The swordsmaster let out a guffaw, "Wouldn't last six seconds in a real fight, but I've taught her to keep her shield up long enough to make a retreat."

"I'm not _that_ bad," Melori cried out, swaying in her chair as she waved her tankard. "I'm learnin' to be a Solshur … a … solder … a … dammit … where'd my drink go?" She asked, looking around the table, the drink held high in one hand.

"I don't know, Librarian," the dwarf grinned. "Maybe somebody took it?"

"But why?" Her face crumpled and she laid her head on the table, her voice mournful and the Dalish in her accent becoming more pronounced. "Why would anybody take a girl's drink? S'not fair."

"Awww," Varric patted her on the back. "You _really_ have no head for liquor."

"I have ALL the liquor," She explained, her head still on the table. "I've had whisky, wine, … I think … wine and ale, beer … cheese!" This was apparently hysterically funny and she giggled for a while to herself. "ALLL the Cheeese!"

"I think it's past time someone goes home," he said, chuckling and decoupling her fingers from the tankard she was gripping. With a little maneuvering, he got her away from the table and half-draped over his shoulder as he led her outside. "Which way home?"

Melori pointed in what she thought was the general vicinity of the cabin. "That-a-away, Varric T-tethr's. Gonna gimme back t'the Templar, are ya?"

"Ooh, you're in Templar custody?" He asked, laughing as she nearly staggered out of his arms. "Ah ah … get back here. You're worse than Merrill."

"I have a _SECRET_," she explained very carefully, waving a finger into the air, "An' he figured it out."

"Was it a very _big_ secret?" he asked, but she had stopped walking and was staring upward with big eyes.

"_So_ many stars …"

"Yeah yeah, there are always lots of stars."

Melori paused and turned, looking around at the different houses. "I … don't remember."

"You don't remember where you live?" He asked.

She sighed heavily. "Even if I did, the Templar would be there."

"Well you've got to go home. Stay out here and you'll freeze."

"But you're here! You'll keep me warm. You're ... fuzzy," she explained, fingers drifting in the direction of the legendary chest hair.

"Ohh ho ho, oh no you don't. I already got me a girl," He answered, laughing aloud and pushing her along. "I think I know where you're going tonight. He can thank me later."

"You're taking me back?" She asked, looking immensely, drunkenly sad.

"Back to the Templar? Yes, I am."

* * *

Her boots were off and there was a blanket over her when she woke up, her head pounding like a halla had kicked her in the head. Melori reached out a hand and, trying to find the edge of the bed, instead encountered a pile of ... books? Things were still swimming a bit, but she was fairly certain this was _not_ her room. A fire was burning low in the grate, casting the space before her into shadow, but there was enough light to see the nearby desk and the figure beside the fire, his head tilted in sleep, his boots on the warm hearth stones.

"Oh," her mouth fell open for a moment, and she had to think to close it. Vaguely she remembered the tavern, something about cheese, wanting to touch Varric's ... "OH gods," she groaned, covering her mouth with her hand. Not only had the poor man been chased out of his own bed, it had been Varric's idea of a joke. "I'm going to murder the little _Durgen'len_," she muttered, carefully sliding out from under the blanket and off the bed. Almost she managed to sneak out of the room and into the still-dark morning outside, but one of the damn reports followed her off the bed and fell to the floor with a thud.

"You're awake," he said, sounding groggy. "I .. was a little surprised to find you there."

"I .. um ... it was an accident, Commander," she explained, turning to face him, her hands clasped behind her. "I got ... well ... to be precise ... completely drunk. And ... I don't remember how I got here?"

"Neither do I,' He smiled, his chair tilting back to the floor. "I came back to find you asleep beside by the fire place."

Oh. Oh no. That was far, far worse. He'd found her passed out on the floor and, instead of kicking her out into the night, he took off her boots and put her to bed? "You should have tossed me back outside," She said, feeling her face flush from her neck to her ears. Thankfully it was probably too dark in the room to be noticeable.

"That seemed a little cruel, given the cold," His smile had turned crooked, and she felt her stomach do a somersault. _Dammit, Caro. Putting ideas into my head. _

"Well, I'll just ... if I could find my boots ..." she looked around in a bit of a panic, "I think I can find my way back home now. I'm truly sorry for inconveniencing you."

Cullen stood and bent down next to the desk, bringing the boots over to her ... which was very polite and too close for Melori's comfort. She accepted them in numb fingers and tried not to look at him, at the way his scar ... she shoved her feet into the soft leather, trying to avoid bumping into him while she hopped on one foot. When had these cabins become so small? And ... dammit, he smelled good - like spices and wood smoke. This was not appropriate. Knight Commander Cullen Rutherford had been a _part _ of her nightmares once, he was _not_ attractive, or tall, or ... she got the second boot on and tried to smile.

"Are you enjoying your work with Leliana?" he asked, reaching up behind her to take a cloak down that had been hanging on the wall.

"I am," she answered, "It's ... it's fascinating work and I like knowing. About what's going on, I mean."

"I imagine you would," He smiled. "Though you must have felt near to the heart of things while working at the Archive."

"Well, nobody told me that Divine Justinia wanted to invite the Antivan Ambassador to lunch because she enjoyed his stories," Melori answered. "But at least the gossip we got was a day old and not a week stale. Leliana sifts through so much information and she knows where each tiny part should fit. It's a lot like what I do when I find remnants of histories and search through ancient sites. We try to understand the world through the whispers we catch ..." she trailed off, realizing that her mouth was running away with her. "Ah ... I'm talking too much."

"Not at all," He answered, then paused. "I do not often have time to converse with anyone these days."

"You should take the time, when you can," She said, looking around the room. "I can already tell you don't sleep enough. What will Haven do if you work yourself to death?"

"Kirkwall was worse," he shrugged, handing her the cloak. "I will walk you back, if you wish. The temperature dropped while you were asleep."

"Oh .." she took the soft cloth between her hands and looked down at it. "Thank you, Commander. I think I'll be all right on my own. You should get what rest you can."

* * *

.

.

.

NOTE: Dear Readers, you have NO IDEA the restraint it took not to turn the final scene into something very different. I've planned this story out. I have! There are rules! I'm trying to be GOOD. .


	11. Chapter 11

_Some think intuition is a gift. But it can be a curse as well ... A voice calling to us from places that are better left unexplored ... An echo of memories that will never die ... No matter how hard we try to kill them. ~ _unknown

.

* * *

The cloak on the peg by the door did not belong to Melori. It was nearly two feet too long and far too expensive for someone of her status. And the dye matched that on Vestor's tabard. It didn't help that he was already upset that she had dragged back in the wee hours of the morning. The cloak had caused him to go white about the mouth and he had slammed out into the falling snow without another word. Melori watched him storm away through the window feeling as though she'd done something unforgivable ... and, while she might have guessed what it was, she didn't particularly wish to.

He was her guardian for now, and she would accept that, but she didn't like to admit that there might be more. It wasn't _just_ that he was a Templar, though that was enough to make her cautious. There were other reasons why the idea of being cared for made her nervous, but they were reasons she had hidden away with all her other secrets. Too painful to review, too precious to leave behind.

"Solas would tell me to let them go," she smiled to herself while she dressed for the day.

The snow was piling up when she pulled open the door, coming down in fat flakes that drifted and landed on her nose. She liked the way her boots slid through the soft stuff, and took her time on the walk to the Chantry and Leliana's tent, enjoying the stillness along the way.

Leliana's tent was anything but still. Melori poked her head inside to find the spymaster surrounded by her people. She handed out orders, whispered messages, and confirmed reports. Something interesting was happening. Melori waited till the crowd had thinned, then approached.

"Melori. Good," Leliana said when she saw the elf. "The Herald has returned and she is preparing to head to Therinfal Redoubt. You will be required to aid me with coordinating our people from here."

"What is Therinfal Redoubt?" Melori asked, looking over the map Leliana had tacked onto the table in her tent. "I'm not familiar with that place."

"It was an old Seekers Fortress, but now it is where Lord Lucius Corin has taken the Templars. It was decided that we would need their strength to close the Breach," Leliana explained. "The Herald is going there to speak to Lord Seeker Lucius in order to convince him to help us." Her shoulders sagged a little and the Spymaster sighed. "It is not what I would have done, but the decision is made."

"Oh," Melori looked back down at the map, her fist clenching at her side. More templars. Just what they needed. Granted, there were more mages in Haven now and it was easier to hide behind the name Librarian, but to have the whole of the Templar order _in Haven_?

"It will be all right," Leliana said quietly, giving Melori a slight smile from beneath her hood. "You are part of the Inquisition now, no?"

"Of course," Melori said, plastering a smile on her face, though her stomach was in knots. It wasn't until several hours later that she realized just what Leliana had said.

* * *

The lists were half-empty that day with so many preparing to depart in the morning. Melori found Vestor waiting to help her with her armor, and she winced a bit as he strapped her into the cuirass. She looked up at him from beneath the sallet brim, then ducked her head when he shot her an angry look. "I am sorry," she whispered, as he helped her fasten the helmet straps. "Please ... I only ..."

"What you do with your time is your business," he said sharply, handing her one of the wooden swords.

"But ... "

His expression stopped her words, leaving her a little sick with guilt. She hadn't meant to hurt him ... hadn't know he would _be_ hurt. But here they were. She followed him out to the sparring field, looking around with some confusion when she didn't see Kessing. "Where is ...?"

"Lady Pentaghast offered to spar with us today," Vestor said. "She wanted a match before she left in the morning and agreed to see what you can do."

"What I can't do, you mean," she said, staring at him in horror. "You told me to _run _if she offered to spar with me."

"Perhaps you should," he answered, his tone unsympathetic as he walked over to the Lady Seeker and bowed.

Melori stood there in her heavy, awkward armor, the wooden sword and shield lighter than they had once felt, but still uncomfortable in her arms, and watched as the Templar and the Seeker traded blows. Cassandra was fast and strong, her movements as natural as breathing. Vestor was taller and had a longer reach, but he was also controlled, saving his strength for short bursts of power. It was not an even match, of course. Lady Pentaghast was probably the most accomplished swordsmaster in all of Haven, but Vestor was not far behind. Melori felt her heart sinking into her toes the longer the fight went on, and wondered if anyone would notice if she just ... faded away into nothingness, like a cloud.

Unfortunately, that was something only spirits could do, and she was shortly discovered to be standing exactly where Vestor had left her, pale as a ghost behind her helm when he called her name. It felt as though she were being called to the gibbet, she thought, trying not to look as though she were about to bolt. She had a bad feeling everyone in the area could run faster than she could while wearing plate.

"Lady Seeker," she said, bowing politely and trying not to trip on her shield.

"You are Leliana's new protege, are you not?" the Seeker asked, looking Melori up and down.

"Yes, my Lady," Melori said, realizing she had a white knuckle grip on the hilt of the wooden sword in her hand, but she didn't dare let go. Compared to the Seeker's sleek hair and sharp, martial disposition, Melori felt disjointed and out of place, like a child wearing her mother's boots.

The other woman frowned and walked in a circle around her. She sighed heavily. "I don't know what they were thinking," She muttered, reaching out and undoing the strap on Melori's helm. "You need a lighter helm. And this," she tapped the cuirass, "does you no favors. It is no wonder she cannot move, she's not built for heavy armor."

"I was wondering if you would say that," Vestor commented with a small bow.

"Put that down," Cassandra ordered, knocking the wooden shield with her very sharp, very real sword. Melori did as she was told and Cassandra exhaled sharply, "She's quite small."

"And quick, when she's got her head in the game," he offered.

"It will take too long to make her stronger." The Seeker paused and tossed the helm to the ground. "Keep the sword and forget about the shield. You would be crushed beneath it in a fight. Small blades might be better, but this is what you have. So," she turned and smiled at Melori, giving a duelist's bow. "Show me what you know."

* * *

"I hate you." Melori hissed, leaning away from the Templar's hands. "That hurts!"

"Sit still," Vestor ordered. "It was your own fault."

"I know," Melori answered, making a face while he applied the healing poultice to her shoulder. Since she'd started training, they'd gone through a case of them. "I just didn't realize anyone could move that fast."

"Most of the Order believes Lady Pentaghast to be not quite human," he said, tugging her shirt back over her arm. "There. The cut is already closed. It won't even leave a scar."

"Someday, I'll get the chance to doctor you," she told him sternly, leaning back against the side of the bed, sliding her feet across the fur rug beneath her. "This is becoming a bad habit between us."

He gave her a glance and smiled, the anger from earlier gone from his eyes. "I don't mind it."

"I know you don't," she said, "But you shou -" Her words broke off in surprise as he leaned suddenly forward and pressed his lips to hers, his hands on her neck, pulling her nearer. It was a tender thing, a question asked too quickly and over too soon. He leaned back, his mouth curving at the look in her eyes, and laid a kiss on her forehead.

"You think too much," he said softly, already climbing to his feet. Melori watched him gather his cloak and walk out the door, her fingers moving to her lips. He wasn't wrong.

* * *

Four days later, the Herald returned to Haven in front of enough to Templars to give Melori nightmares for weeks. They set up camp with the other soldiers just beyond Haven, but they didn't stay there. Everywhere she went, she found more of them. They'd even crowded the privy, which was enough to tick _everyone off_, especially the man in charge of cleaning them. Melori concentrated on her work and her training, pretending to be invisible as she walked along Haven's snowy roads. Hugh, who had been rather quiet since their kiss a few days earlier, kept an eye on her as usual, but when the Templars arrived, he'd been tapped as one of the knights who would help the Herald seal the rift - a great honor.

The night before the event, Melori walked down to the Tavern for dinner, edging between the Templars and the soldiers in the hopes of claiming at least one of the pies she'd been craving all day. Her work for Leliana was _hungry_ work, and after sitting all day with the Spymaster going over reports and ciphers, Melori was usually ready for a hot meal. or two.

"Anything left?" she asked as she bellied up to the bar, her eyes hopeful. But Flissa shook her head.

"I ran out an hour ago, I'm sorry," the tavern keeper explained. "They may have more down in the camp, though."

"I know," Melori smiled sadly. "But yours are _better_."

"If you come in early tomorrow, I'll make sure to save one for you."

She grinned and turned, pushing back out the way she had come, gasping a little when she left the tavern and the cold air hit her face. The crowds reminded her of Tevinter, though the cold did not. She started down toward the practice area, her cloak wrapped close around her, feet crunching satisfactorily in the snow.

"You there!" someone called out behind her, but she assumed they were speaking to someone else and continued along. It wasn't until she heard the ringing of armor and a rough hand grabbed her arm that she realized they had been calling after her.

"What are you ...?" she said, alarmed, and then she saw the Templar sigil on the armor and looked slowly up to see the man staring down at her with an unpleasant expression on his face.

"You were at the Ferelden Circle," he said, his hand tightening around her wrist. "I saw you harrowed."

For a moment, Melori felt as though the entire world was shifting beneath her feet and every fear was coming true at once. But then she heard the crunch of another set of feet in the snow and Solas had his hand on the man's wrist. "I am afraid you are mistaken," the apostate said calmly. "This woman is the Inquisition's librarian. You must have her confused with someone else."

"I don't believe I do," the Templar said, his hand tightening on her wrist until Melori gave a little gasp of pain. Solas stepped forward, his brows drawing down in anger as he placed his body between Melori and the Templar.

"Release her. Even were she a mage, the Circles are dissolved. You have no reason to waylay her."

Something in Solas' face must have convinced him, for the Templar threw her arm down with a growl and stalked away. Melori watched him go and rubbed her wrist. She found that she was shaking - which was amusing considering she'd face far worse over the last few months. It's difficult to top a dragon in terms of fear.

"I forgot," she said, very softly. "The Templars I have met among the Inquisition have been ... kind. I have mistrusted their kindness. But I also became used to it."

"And you forgot what made you fear them?" Solas asked.

"Yes," She shuddered, pulling her wrist against her chest. "Will you walk with me?"

"_Garas,_" He said with a bow, "You will not be bothered again this night."

* * *

She sat on her bed that night with the quilt over her knees, watching the fire flicker in the grate and frowning at the bruise on her wrist. Her stomach grumbled, but she ignored it, not wanting to go back to where the Templars might be. This was how it had been before, when she had been hiding in plain sight - work in the libraries or ancient sites, stay among the women and the Chantry sisters, never really acknowledge the Templars unless politeness dictated otherwise, and always always always know where the exits lay. She had been incautious among the Inquisition, too caught up in the power of the idea ... and even if the Templars had no real authority over her anymore right _now_, tomorrow could prove that false if the Circles were re-established. The danger was real.

The door opened, a blast of cold air curling across the floor, and Hugh walked inside brushing snow from his dark hair. He was wearing his plate and set his sword beside his bed before pulling his gauntlets free and setting them on the fireplace mantle. He looked tall and lean, his profile strong in that way Ferelden men had, and every inch the Templar in his gleaming armor and tabard. Melori didn't realize she hadn't spoken until he turned and gave her a questioning look, and she found herself ducking her head, avoiding his eyes.

"What is wrong?"

"I ... it's impossible to explain," she said, forcing herself to look at him, to remember that this was Hugh and he had never treated her poorly. The memory of the kiss a few days before flitted through her mind and she found her eyes on his mouth, and her face flushed bright red. She looked away abruptly. "I ... um ... I was thinking. That's all. Just me and my thoughts ... " Oh gods. She pressed her lips together and thought about puppies and kittens and anything but Templars and fear and Hugh's mouth. Somewhere, she knew, Caro was laughing at her, and rightly so.

"Melori," He said, and she heard the slide of metal as he approached the bed. "I can leave if you want me to?"

"Don't be ridiculous," she looked up at him, her brows lifting. "You've got to sleep somewhere, don't you?" They'd been sharing sleeping space since the first night they'd met, it would seem odd for him to leave just because she was having _thoughts_. "It's nothing important. Really." She tried a smile, but he was looking down at her lap where she had cradled her bruised wrist. Melori froze.

"What happened to your arm?" he asked, reaching out to touch her hand, but she gave him an elaborate shrug.

"I almost fell on the ice and one of the guards grabbed my arm to stop me from cracking my head open," she lied. It was badly done. She knew it, and so did he, from the look in his eyes.

"Melori," He sat down on the bed beside her, and she found herself trapped beneath the quilt and the wall, and the worried look in his eyes. "What really happened?"

"I can't tell you," she blurted out. "You have other things to worry about than me, Hugh Vestor."

He smiled at that, pushing a lock of hair behind one of her ears, his fingers lingering a little over the lines of her vallaslin. She shivered, found herself looking at his mouth again and thinking about ... things. Her stomach flipped and she would have squirmed to the other side of the bed, but he still had her wrist in his hand, and the quilt was tight across her lap.

_Damn him. _

"Is it because of what you are?" he asked.

"I'm a Li ..."

"Yes," he interrupted her, though his tone was gentle. "But you are also every bit a mage."

The word hung in the air of the room between them, and she closed her eyes. "I will not admit it."

"You don't have to." And this time the kiss was almost overpowering, his lips sliding over hers and his fingers sliding into her hair and over the tips of her ears to cup her head. Melori made a soft sound, her heart drumming so fast in her chest she thought she would explode, and she kissed him in return, everything else flying out of her mind. When he finally pulled away, she had to put a hand on his arm to stop the room from tilting, her breath coming as fast as his.

"I did not want to make the attempt on the Breach without you knowing how I felt," he said, moving so that his fingers tangled with hers. "I know what you are, Melori, and ... I am not a Templar where you are concerned. I haven't been since that first day when I saw you in the Hinterlands with all this ridiculous bright hair."

"My hair is not ridiculous," she protested weakly.

"Yes, it is," he answered. "It tangles me up and I forget everything - duty, cause, oaths. And then you smile and I lose my mind altogether."

"Since the Hinterlands?"

"I know you didn't see anything but a Templar then," he answered, his eyes so dark she lost herself there. "Can you ... is it possible ...?"

"I ..." She hesitated, her heart thudding in her chest. "I'm afraid of what will happen if I say yes." She whispered.

"I swear, I will protect you," he replied. "Whatever you decide ..." he laid a kiss on her mouth that felt like a prayer, soft and sweet. "I am yours."


	12. Chapter 12

NOTE: _Trying to keep Melori's spell use to things she could do surreptitiously. Like electrifying her sword blade - any of the mages could have done that for her, so all she has to do is pretend it wasn't she who did it. :D_

NOTE II: _This took a lot of review to write. Everyone is involved in the fight for Haven, so it was necessary to really pay attention to what happened. Took a bit longer than the usual._

* * *

.

_Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work: you don't give up._ ~Anne Lamott

.

* * *

The Herald closed the breach the next day, the Templars at her back and Haven cheering in the distance. The party began before their heroes came down from the mountainside, everyone laughing and dancing. The Chargers opened the casks and, by the time the Herald walked through the gates, nearly everyone was at least a little tipsy. Melori watched from the sidelines as the tall human woman with the dark hair and quiet expression walked past, looking tired but happy. The Templars were surrounded by well-wishers who wanted to clap them on the back and buy them a drink, so Hugh was quickly swallowed up in the crowd.

She found a good spot along the wall, wrapping herself in her cloak and watching the festivities from above with a strangely hollow feeling in her chest. The Breach was closed, which was good. The world was saved and she would soon be free to go back to ... what? The Chantry would elect a new Divine, someone would try to reopen the Circles of Magi, the Templars would go back to hunting mages ... and she would be a librarian once more.

It frightened her how she had grown so completely attached to being a part of the Inquisition that the idea of its success terrified her. But it couldn't last forever. Haven was unable support the weight of the Inquisition forces, and the owner would likely not let them stay now that the Breach was but a glowing green remnant high overhead. Even if she wished to stay, would there be anything left once everyone dispersed?

"You think too much," she told herself, looking out toward the mountains beyond the frozen lake. The mists were falling across the folded heights, drifting down into the valley below. A flash caught her eye, a movement among the trees upon the ridge. Melori leaned forward, trying to see what it was and jerked back when the single figure turned into a swarm and dark figures began to spill across the ridge. In the distance, the alarm bells began to ring and she climbed to her feet, hearing as Commander Cullen shouted the call to arms.

"Go!" Cassandra shouted as she ran past, "We need everyone!"

Her gear was in her cabin - the armored jacket and the sword Hallet, the smith, had given her. It took a moment to leap down from the wall and run back to the cabin. Then she had to throw off her cloak and gloves, to pull on the better boots and gauntlets, and to strap the new, lighter helmet on her head. She paused, looking between her staff and the blade ... she could do more damage as a mage. Then Hugh was at the door, his face drawn as he pushed her sword into her hands and pulled her back out into the snow.

"Stay with me!" he shouted above the yelling, "It's a ... the Elder One. And mages."

"What?" She gasped as they rounded a corner, pushing past the unarmed citizens who were running for the chantry.

"This way," he grabbed her arm and tugged her through the gate, slapping the face guard down on his helm. Commander Cullen saw them approaching and pointed with his sword, "Guard the trebuchet!"

The enemy was everywhere, and they'd brought abominations with them. Melori touched her blade with a whispered spell, watching as sparks fled up the metal, and turned toward the enemy, keeping behind Hugh as he charged forward into the melee. This time, she did not hesitate, all the long hours in the lists having done some good at last. Her blade caught one of the monstrous demonic things across the waist and she lifted her armored arm to catch a spell, her warding dissipating the virulent energy as she closed with the caster, a mage wearing ragged robes, red fury in his eyes. She turned the glittering blade and put her weight behind it, slicing into the man's torso, then staggering as the mage fell, nearly pulling her off her feet before she could jerk the metal free of him.

"Melori, down!" Hugh yelled, and she ducked, feeling the concussion as he turned and lifted his blade skyward, calling down light that crashed in a circle around them. The mages staggered back and even Melori had to shake her head to clear the ringing in her ears. This was going to be uncomfortable if every time he used his Templar skills he set her balance on its backside.

The Trebuchet snapped forward then, shaking the ground as the payload slammed through the air overhead before rocketing down to hit the hills beyond. She stared, eyes grown wide as the boulder did little good in the face of so many enemies.

"Over here!" Hugh yelled, and she ran after him to the second trebuchet. The Chargers were there, along with the Herald and everyone else, fighting tooth and claw as they wound back the next shot. The Herald pointed toward the mountain above the approaching enemies and they began to turn the gears, the entire engine moving slowly around. Mage fire slammed into the ground near Melori's feet and but a hand caught her arm before she could fall.

"Steady now," Varric said, letting her go as he sighted along Bianca's length and squeezed the trigger. The sound of the bolt release was followed by an anguished cry in the distance. "We're not done yet."

This time when the boulder struck, released by the Herald herself, half the mountain came down, rolling across the hillside in a tidal wave of ice. Boulders the size of houses smashed through the enemy ranks and Melori feared the billowing mass would continue down to where they stood. They watched in awe, the entire company holding their collected breath, only to release it on a cheer, relief evident on every face.

Then the dragon screamed and everything went to hell.

* * *

They ran for the gates, sliding over the slick terrain and past Commander Cullen. Hugh turned and lent his shoulder as they slammed the doors shut, letting the bar fall, Melori standing behind him and staring at the sky. Commander Cullin led the way up the stairs, the Herald beside him, their expressions grim. "We need everyone back to the Chantry! It's the only building that might hold against ... that beast! At this point," he said, glaring down at the Inquisition forces gathered around him, "Just make them _work_ for it."

Haven was burning. The dragon flew over their heads breathing down in great gouts of power, and every building not made of stone went up like kindling. She thought of her books in the cabin and cursed, knowing it was already too late. The only priority now was to keep whoever they could from burning alive or being mowed down by the enemy mages. Several of the houses were hopelessly engulfed, but they were able to break open a few and drag the inhabitants out into the cold air, urging them to run to the Chantry and following them close behind. Everywhere people screamed, some to the Maker, the rest in agony, and there was a scent in the air that she would never forget as so many perished in the fires.

They came up the rise around the tavern, and Hugh raised his shield, grunting as an enemy swordsman crashed into him. Their blades kissed and the Templar kicked out the other man's knee with a steel boot. Melori turned in time to catch a blow on her blade from a second swordsman, gasping as he threw her back and then ducking as he swung for her head. She remembered what Cassandra had told her on the lists about using her speed to her advantage, and she used it now, darting below the blade and thrusting up and under his guard.

He grunted and staggered, but didn't fall, and she found herself crouching and rolling to get away as he came at her again. It didn't help that she was _already_ tired from the previous fighting at the trebuchets _before_ the dragon had shown up and scared the pants off everyone. It took every scrap of self-preservation she owned to get her sword up in time to block his next blow, and the force of it was so great it rattled her teeth and turned her shoulder numb. The man raised his foot and kicked her in the gut, sending her flying down the road to skid along the ice and nearly against the wall of the burning tavern.

_Shit. Yep. That's a rib. Or two._

He was coming toward her now, footsteps loud even over the screaming and the dragon's roar. Or maybe that was her heart slamming in her chest ... she wasn't sure. He lifted his blade over his head, and she lifted her hand in front of her, shutting her eyes and shouting as blue energy ripped from her palm to impact against his chest, slamming him into the city wall with a clang of armor. He didn't rise. She fell to her hands and knees, her head spinning. She felt it as Hugh's opponent hit the ground and the Templar ran him through.

"Come on," Hugh said, pulling her roughly to her feet. "Time to go."

"On my way," she gasped, limping along after him. Her sword arm was numb and her side felt like hell, but she was alive. That had to count for something.

* * *

She didn't pause to sit or rest once they were inside the Chantry. Instead, she ignored everyone else, grabbed a pack from a corner, and started shoving the Warden documents and all her other work supplies into it off her desk in the corner. When Hugh saw what she was doing, he took the bag and followed her, watching with concern as she limped and cursed beneath her breath.

"Melori, sit down," He said when she paused, trying to catch her breath. He pulled a scarlet vial from his belt and passed it to her, "Drink it."

She took the vial and drank it down, sighing a little as the warmth fled through her body, easing the pain in her ribs. "No time to sit. We've got to get away and we can't leave these behind. At best, we should ... we should burn them."

"You're not going back out there," he said, firmly. "Not even to toss this lot into one of the buildings already on fire."

"We'll have to see abou..."

Commander Cullen had raised his voice then. "Inquisition! Follow Chancellor Roderick through the Chantry! Move!"

"Well, that tears it," Hugh swore, swinging the pack over one shoulder. "We have to move."

"Right," She agreed, but she lingered, not wanting to leave anything important. Hugh had to come back and take her by the arm, pulling her along behind him while she protested.

They were at the end of the group fleeing through the door in the back of the building, and everyone who wasn't carrying or supporting someone else held their weapons at the ready. Cullen walked behind Hugh, his blade in hand, shouting occasionally to chivvy them onward. There was no sign of the Herald, Varric, Cassandra, or Solas for many long minutes. They paused at the rise into the mountains, waiting anxiously. Melori prayed to Mythal that they would see the others soon.

Time passed, and, finally, three figures appeared in the distance, jogging up the hill. She could see Cassandra at the lead, followed by Varric and Solas. But not the Herald. Their faces were grim and pale.

"Go," Cassandra gasped. "Let her know it's time."

The flares flew high into the air, burning with red light, and the Herald of Andraste brought the mountain down on Haven.

* * *

Cold. Pain. Exhaustion. Sorrow. Fear.

She kept expecting the dragon to swoop around one of the mountain peaks and descend upon the group, coming out of the haze of the blizzard in a storm of wing and fire. They waded through deep snow in a long line, calling out to one another now and then to make sure that no one was lost and no one stumbled off into the dark. Hugh and some of the other knights walked with Cullen behind the line, helping to guide the stragglers and, more often than not, turning to look back in the hope of seeing a familiar figure appear out of the gloom and wind.

They lit fires along the route, stopping to warm frozen limbs and melt the snowfall for drinking water. Even next to the fires, her teeth were chattering violently, and sharing Hugh's cloak only helped a little. But as her energy returned, she was able to summon the warming spell, sighing as her temperature rose, bit by bit. Hugh noticed and glanced at her, pulling her closer and leaning his face into her hair with a small smile.

They reached the top of the pass many hours later, walking into the relative shelter of the peaks and into an area broad enough for the tents. Melori walked into the camp with the last of the group, and sat abruptly down next to the first fire she came to, not caring if she sat in the mud or was too close to the flames. At least they had finally _stopped_ and wouldn't moving on until everyone had rested. Hugh was speaking with Commander Cullen and Knight Templar Barris a few yards away, their voices hushed and urgent. The Herald still had not appeared and a watch was needed.

"I can take a watch," she heard herself volunteering and wondered what was wrong with her. But, really, she wasn't much good in a camp otherwise. Climbing stiffly to her feet, she approached the three men, and attempted to look less tired and more helpful.

"Melori," Hugh began, but Melori interrupted.

"If I can take a catnap first, I'll be fine. Better to be useful than to just sit around staring at a fire."

Cullen nodded, "Good. Stay close by for now while we get the rotation sorted, Enara."

"Yes, Ser," she bowed, going back to the fire and dropping down again. "Now ... just a short nap."

* * *

It was dark when Hugh shook her awake. She blinked at him and carefully untangled herself from the cloak he'd draped over her while she slept, sitting on the damp gravel next to the fire. Her rear was tingling uncomfortably and she had a malicious kink in her neck, but, otherwise, she was fine. "Time for my watch?" she asked blearily, letting him help her to her feet.

"It is. Are you awake yet?" he asked, peering at her.

"I will be," she nodded. "Thank you for making sure I was up."

"Go on. I'll be here when you get back."

The hike up to where she was to keep watch was a longer one, and she was grateful for the cloak. The temperature dropped and the wind picked up as she approached the edge of the pass. From there, the ground slid down the long, stormy mountainside, giving anyone at the top a good view. She was surprised, when she arrived, to find the Commander and Lady Pentaghast already there, watching the darkness beyond. Melori nodded to them, then tapped the scout she was replacing on the shoulder and pointed back to the camp with her thumb, he nodded sleepily and trotted down the mountain path back to the camp.

"Enara," Cullen said, nodding to her when he turned to begin pacing once more.

"Commander. Lady Pentaghast," She said.

"Thank you for volunteering earlier," he said, pausing next to her. "It was good of you."

"It seemed the best way to help," she answered. "Have we had many stragglers?"

"A few," Cassandra answered, leaning back against the rock wall with her arms crossed over her chest. "But not ..."

"No," Cullen shook his head, running a hand over his face. They both looked worn out. "But so long as there is a even the smallest chance, we will watch for her."

"Yes, Ser," Melori nodded, turning her head out toward the mist and fog rolling below them.

* * *

It was sometime past midnight, she thought. The night had turned clear, though the wind still blew the snow into billows below their place on the mountainside. The air was cold and sharp, keeping her awake as she watched the snowline. Now and then the wind would toss the snow about and she would startle, thinking the shadow was a person climbing up toward them. She found herself checking the skies, as well, waiting for the dragon to find them, but it never did. She'd taken to pacing in opposition to Cullen, moving left as he moved right and vice versa. It kept her legs from locking up and gave her something to do.

As she watched, something shifted in for below them in the pass, and she paused, holding her breath. If it just blew away ... but it didn't. Instead it moved forward another few feet and paused. Then a few more.

"I.. I think I see ...someone!" Melori exclaimed, grabbing hold of Cullen's arm as he paused next to her, peering into the gloom. He straightened after a moment, and they all took off down the mountainside, plunging through the deep snow. It took a little while to make it down to where they'd seen the figure in the snow.

They came to a ledge of ice and rock and Cullen cried out, "It's her!" as he and Cassandra plunged the next few feet down the slope to the figure slumped there in the snow.


	13. Chapter 13

_I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge - myth is more potent than history - dreams are more powerful than facts - hope always triumphs over experience - laughter is the cure for grief - love is stronger than death. ~ _Robert Fulghum

.

* * *

Sleep. It was a beautiful thing. Melori laid on the cot at the back of the tent and drifted, skimming the edge of dreaming. Almost she made it past the edge and into that lovely, restful well, but then the voices started up again, not two tents over, and she was awake once more. "We can't do this in the morning?" she asked the tent roof and heard, somewhere to her right, a muffled laugh.

"Hello, Varric," she said, her tone dry.

"They're just working out the kinks, LIbrarian," he said. "Next thing you know, it'll be all roses and kisses."

"Don't forget the puppies," she said, resting her forearm over her eyes.

"Hey, since you can't sleep anyway and we've got liquor ..."

"You enjoy getting me drunk, don't you?" She asked, though a smile crept into her voice.

"Well, we don't have _that_ much alcohol," he chuckled.

"Fine ... All right," Melori took a moment to bid her attempt at sleep good bye, and swung her legs to the side of the cot. If they were next door, Hugh should have no troubles finding her. Not that he should be looking ... or ... she frowned and rubbed at her eyes. It was _very _tempting to just step over to where all the important people were yelling and tell them to shut it. But she wasn't quite that suicidal. Yet.

"Librarian? We're gonna run out of booze."

"Of course you are," she grumbled, making her way over to the other tent. _"We" _turned out to be Varric and one of Bull's Chargers - the latter of whom was stretched out on one of the cots with his feet crossed at the ankles and his head propped on his arm. A giant hammer with a long haft was propped against a the tent wall next to the mercenary, and Varric was sitting nearby on a bedroll, his back against the tent pole and a wry smile on his face.

"Hey, it's the dragon lady," the mercenary said, giving her a wave.

"The dragon lady is Mythal, and I am, sadly, not her," she answered, dropping onto a nearby bedroll and leaning back against the tent pole next to Varric. She turned her head to look up at the Charger, her eyes narrowing. "You're the one who got me completely out of my head drunk before the ... " she grimaced at the memory and gestured at her left leg, "... the splint."

"Before the screaming, you mean," he said with a wince. "I can't say I envy you that. Thought we'd killed you, to be honest."

"Not splinting it likely would have been worse," Melori shrugged. "I'm Melori Enara, by the way."

"Name's Cremisius Aclassi, but everyone calls me Krem," the mercenary said.

"It's nice to meet you properly," Melori smiled, taking the small jug Varric passed to her and sniffing at it. Her eyes nearly crossed and she started to cough, waving her hand at her nose with a helpless expression. "OH CREATOR, Varric! What _is_ this?" She asked, her eyes watering.

"Just something our friend here decided to share," he said with a grin. "Seemed like the kind of stuff you would enjoy."

"You _are_ trying to kill me," She accused, her nose wrinkling as she contemplated drinking the stuff. "Does Hawke have the same taste in alcohol?"

"Why do you think we're friends?" Varric laughed.

"It's a Tevinter recipe from home," Krem explained. "Easy enough to make while marching and it'll knock you on your arse quick enough."

Melori tipped the jug back to her lips and took a tentative drink. She started coughing immediately, her hand going to her throat with an alarmed expression. "Oh ... oh. That's _vile_."

"Isn't it?" Varric laughed. "Have another drink. It gets better over time."

* * *

When the singing started, Melori was half asleep, the alcohol burning in her blood and giving her a warm, floating feeling. By the time it was over, she was sitting there in the dark, crying softly into her hands, trying not to wake Varric or Krem. But then a heavy hand patted her shoulder and she looked over to find Varric's eyes were open as he, too, listened to the song. When it was done, she got up on shaky legs and walked out of the tent and up the rise, the cold wind feeling good against her too-hot skin.

Not far away from the tents she found a small copse of trees, and just beyond that the mountain fell gradually away into a series of jagged ridges. From the top one could see the whole of the sky, the stars huge and bright and seeming close enough to touch. She wiped her eyes and stared upward, feeling a little guilty that she was grateful - intensely, stupidly, happily grateful - that the Inquisition had survived even this long. That she still had a place in it, despite everything. That it had taken the destruction of Haven, the appearance of a monster and an Archdemon, and so many people had died - that _Caro _wasn't here with her now ... it made her stomach clench. It made her angry. But still, beneath it all, she was _relieved._ And, for that, she was intensely ashamed.

Turning, Melori looked back toward the camp, her arms folded across her chest and her hair whipping around her face in the wind. The Herald was alive and they still had work to do. She was grateful for that ... and maybe, just maybe, she would be forgiven for it. She hoped so.

* * *

"Next time that dwarf lures you out into a night of drunken revelry, I'm coming along," Hugh told her as they walked along behind the Herald, who was leading them ... well, no one was exactly certain where they going. No one except Solas, that is.

"It was hardly a revelry," She said, eying the back of his head with a frown. He was striding through the deep snow as though it was nothing but a nuisance while she floundered along behind him. It came up to her _knees, _and she was finding it difficult to be reasonable about it.

"Still," he glanced over his shoulder at her, a smile curving his lips. "I don't like missing out on you in your cups."

"I'm completely boring," she assured him. "I cry a lot. And then I sleep. And Varric has to carry me home over his shoulder."

"That's not what I've heard," he chuckled.

"What _have_ you heard?" she asked, trying to speed up so she could get a better look at his face. "And why are you legs so long?" It was possible she'd been a wee bit hungover that morning.

"I come from a long line of fine Ferelden stock," he said, turning and walking backwards, his eyes alight with mischief. "We are all intensely long-legged and roguishly charming."

"I can think of a few other things you are," she muttered.

"Charming is one word for it," Cassandra commented, coming up behind them as they slowed. She leaned over to speak quietly to Melori, though just loud enough that Hugh could hear, "You ought to take him with you to the tavern. He kisses everyone when he's in his cups. _Everyone._"

"What? I ... No!" Sir Hugh protested, his color rising. "I most certainly do _not_, Lady Seeker."

"I remember otherwise," Casssandra answered, her expression smug. "He also shows off his birthmark."

"He has a birthmark?" Melori asked, blinking. Hugh's face went all over scarlet. He turned abruptly around and started forward again, muttering, and she laughed, never having seen him so unsettled. She'd known he and the Seeker had worked together in the past, but she hadn't quite imagined _this. _This was so much better.

"Oh yes," said Cassandra conspiratorially. "He becomes quite the exhibitionist in his cups."

"Maybe I _will_ take him along next time," Melori said thoughtfully.

"Oh, I want to be there when you do."

"You do remember Varric will be there?"

"I am not worried about that," the Seeker smiled.

* * *

They were nearing the end of the trek. No one knew it for certain, of course, but there was a feeling they all shared that whatever was ahead, the journey was almost done. The Herald led them across the stony, snowy landscape with Solas at her side and it was just that simple. Even if Melori didn't believe in the human Maker, she believed in Solas and whatever fate it was that drove the Herald's crazy luck, as Varric put it. That the entire journey felt like some miraculous progression out of an old religious text didn't hurt.

When they crested the rise and saw Skyhold, the entire company gasped. Nothing they had anticipated could have prepared them for the shock of seeing that stone edifice rising up from the jagged landscape, steady and impenetrable, it's walls intact after countless years. A renewed energy filled them and they began to make their way down the mountain.

When Melori saw the castle, tears sprang to her eyes, though she wasn't sure why. The place _spoke to her_, it called to her like no place she had ever been - as though she had waited her entire life to be where she was in this moment. When they started to walk forward again, she saw Solas looking back at her from the head of the line with a smile and found herself smiling back.

* * *

"Oh." Melori's voice had that surprised, hushed reverence to it that most people reserve for the truly miraculous.

"Are you all right?" Hugh asked, his voice echoing a little in the empty hall as he wrestled with the rotted remnants of an old dining table.

"I'm ... perfect," she said, hands clutched to her chest. "I think ... I think I found something good."

"Is it another wine cellar?"

"No," she answered, "Better than that."

"A _stocked_ wine cellar?" He dropped the table with a thud, abandoning it to look through the small doorway at the end of the dining hall and sneezed again. "Melori ..."

They were in the lower floor of the main castle, just below the Great Hall, trying to clear things out so the kitchens could be used properly. After all the debris and rotted wood they'd found in the castle, they'd finally managed to get some of the lower rooms cleared away, though it had taken a day or so. Melori kept opening random doors and was, currently, drifting along a hallway between shelves and shelves of books, ignoring the cobwebs and the dust that floated _everywhere_. She'd already been ecstatic to find the upper atrium full of bookshelves and a few antique volumes, but this? This was breath-taking.

She paused and peered at some of the titles, bouncing a little on her toes. "I don't even know where to begin!"

"I'd recommend a duster," Hugh said, coming to the doorway behind her. He was dressed in a simple shirt over trousers, rather than his usual gear, which gave him the look of a rather handsome craftsman. "Are you sure that's safe? This looks like a mage's hideaway."

"Oh, it's fine," She said, crossing into the office and hopping a little with delight. "It even has a proper scribe's desk! And the books ... these are all rare." She looked back at him with wide eyes, cobwebs springing out from her hair and her nose smudged with grime. "Do you think they'd let me use it sometimes?"

"I think," he said, following her cautiously into the space. "No one _else_ would take it."

She turned in a circle, imagining all the stories, all the histories in those books and felt her face flush with excitement. This was a _miracle_. This was better than finding out she could sleep in on a morning when she was supposed to go to the lists and let Kessing beat on her. This was better than dry socks in the Storm Coast. This was better than ... everything. She bit her lip and turned to say as much to Hugh, only to find him staring at her with an expression that nearly made her heart stop.

"Maker," he breathed, taking two steps forward and catching her face in his hands, his lips finding hers. For several moments, she entirely forgot where she was as he turned her legs to jelly, and they were both gasping when he let her go. "I ..." he pressed his forehead to hers, "You steal my heart with every word, and then you look at me like that ... I'm sorry, but I could not resist."

Earlier tendrils of fear, of hesitation whispered in the back of her head, but Melori couldn't listen, not with happiness radiating through her body in electric curls. Her fingers reached out and closed on his shirt, drawing him nearer, and she stood up on her tiptoes, tilting her head to press her lips to his. It was a shy thing, an uncertain venture, and she gasped when he groaned and lifted her off her feet to kiss her more thoroughly, pressing her back into the stacks of books as the kiss deepened, his hands sliding down along her sides and over the curve of her back to pull her nearer.

Eventually Hugh dropped his head to her shoulder and simply held her tightly, stroking the line of her neck and down her arm, making her shiver. She ran her fingers through his dark hair, something she had wanted to do for a while but had never dared, and he sighed, relaxing into her as though he had been holding himself tightly together for a very long time and only now could relax or breathe.

* * *

"Dammit," she muttered a few days later, shoving the Grey Warden papers across the desk and sitting back in the chair in the now dusted-out and gleaming study. She was talking to herself, of course. Hugh had been sent out to help reunite their operatives in the Hinterlands with Skyhold, and his absence was making her grouchy. "This doesn't make _sense_. That or I don't want to believe it."

"Having a problem are we?" A lilting voice asked from behind her and Melori visibly startled, grabbing hold of the edge of the desk before turning slowly around to look over her shoulder. Her brow nearly hit her hairline as she took in the man standing in the hall, a plate of fruit on one hand, one of the books in the other, and the door to the study open behind him. "This is _quite _the fascinating collection you have here." He commented.

"I ...well," She rose to her feet, thinking that the study did have the singular disadvantage of lacking an appropriate number of exits. It wasn't that she thought the man to be an enemy, she'd seen him in the library when she'd gone up to speak with Leliana or one of the scholars, but she'd not spoken with so far. He was a Tevinter and she wasn't certain she wanted to renew relations with that particular population.

"I remember you," he said, snapping the book shut and pointing at her with it. "_You_ are the reason I managed to get out of Haven alive!"

"What?" Melori eyed him and shook her head. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, you don't remember the dragon? The fight through Haven? How you cleared the path for me? Well, you and that marvelously efficient Templar," He leaned a shoulder against the door frame. "Normally, I wouldn't have had issue with the retreat, but I was helping one our allies."

"Oh, well ... I'm glad I could help," she smiled, then shook her head. In for a penny, in for a pound ... "I don't believe we've met."

"Ah! How remiss of me! Dorian of House Pavus, lately of Minrathous, at your service," He bowed elegantly, the metal bits on his armor glinting in the candle light. "I am, as you may have guessed, from Tevinter."

"I did guess that part," she said drily, though she was having a hard time not smiling. The man was ridiculously charming. "I'm Melori Enara, one of the LIbrarians for the Inquisition."

"I thought you might," he laughed. "It is a pleasure to meet another mage, there are so few ..."

"Ah ... I'm not a mage," She interrupted, her smile faltering. "I'm sorry, but I'm just a Librarian, as I said before."

_That_ got her a speculative look. "How odd," He said stepping out of the hall and into the study proper, "I could have sworn I witnessed you throwing that poor Venatori sot halfway across Haven with the most _marvelous_ mixture of energy and the arcane. Or are you going to tell me your blade was _runed_?" He said the last word with a sneer, and Melori, who had been about to say just that, felt her mouth clicked shut.

"If I could wager a guess," he paused, tilting his head. "You've got quite a lot more magic tingling in those delicate, elven fingertips?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Melori snapped, turning and sitting back down at her desk, trying to think about anything but magic while she was angry. She could already feel the storm brewing. "There was all kind of magic flying around Haven that day. Perhaps ..."

"Do not take me for a fool," he smiled, taking a seat on her desk. "I know magic when it is cast in my vicinity. I _am_ the scion of one of the Magisterial houses in Tevinter after all. As finely bred for magery as any young Altus."

Melori sighed, rubbing her forehead with one hand and trying to ignore that he was sitting on top of her notes. "I don't know how this is important at all. I have work to do, don't you?"

He laughed. "Who, me? Of course not! I've been sitting up in the tower reading books all afternoon! Would you like a grape?"

"No, thank you, Alta Pavus. I should really be getting back to work," She said, praying to Mythal that he would just leave before her nerves unraveled.

"Suit yourself," he said, standing up and heading for the hall. Before he left, however, he turned around. "There is something I find curious, Librarian Enara."

She turned her head and looked at him over one shoulder, feeling suddenly apprehensive at the hawk-like look in the man's eyes. He was _not_ a fool, no matter how sparkly his shirt. "What is that,?"

He walked back toward her desk, "You know what an Altus is." he said, "But your accent is more Ferelden than Dalish and nothing like Tevinter. How could you know what no one else in these Andraste-ridden lands acknowledges?"

"I've been to Tevinter," she explained. "Several years ago when I was traveling with Scholar ..." She paused, "One of the scholars I worked with at the time. We were in Minrathous for several months, actually."

"You _are_ intriguing," he smiled. "Very well, I shall keep your secret. But I will be back to learn more and you shall not deny me. No one ever lasts for long against my evident charms."

.

.

* * *

Authorial Babblings:

NOTE: Stages of Drunk Melori: Stage 1, passively cautious. Stage 2, giggly and flirty. Stage 3, philosophical and prone to weeping. Stage 4, EVERYTHING is hilarious. Stage 5, Magical Chaos. NEVER let her go past Stage 4.

NOTE II: For the record, in my mind's eye, Hugh looks a lot like Lee Pace with his normal dark hair, typically close to but not quite clean shaven, etc. Gah, there's a very perfect Image I have in mind, but I can't link it. :-/ If you'd like to see it, look for erithe . tumblr . com First post - Melori inspirations, and 2nd post is the picture of Lee Pace.

NOTE III: I keep imagining Hugh and Meloir's Tarot cards with him as a Knight of Cups and her as, possibly, a moon card, or a Queen of Cups card. I recommend the Shadowscapes Tarot if you'd like to see why. The descriptions in the accompanying book are excellent and the art is GORGEOUS.

NOTE IV: I think it's going to become a fad in Skyhold to see who can startle Melori the hardest. Eventually, this is how she will pass away. Someone will offer her cake, she'll 'meep' and that'll be it.

NOTE V: People who know about Melori's magecraft in the Inquisition - Solas, Hugh, Leliana, Dorian ... and probably George. He's a thorough latrine keeper.


	14. Chapter 14

_The most formidable attribute of temptation is its increasing power, its accelerating ratio of velocity. Every act of repetition increases power, diminishes resistance. It is like the letting out of waters-where a drop can go, a river can go. Whoever yields to temptation, subjects himself to the law of falling bodies. _~ Horace Mann

.

* * *

"From what I gather," Melori said, sitting across from Leliana at the table in the Rookery. "The Gray Wardens are after one of their own, as we thought before; _however_, I think I have a good guess as to who, and it doesn't make sense."

"What does not make sense?" Leliana asked, looking over the papers Melori had given to her.

"Well, I know you were with the Hero of Ferelden during the Blight. I remember reading about you, and you were at the Circle Tower, though I only saw you briefly. I ...It really seems like they're looking for one of the Wardens, if not both of them, who fought with you then."

"But the Hero of Ferelden is not in ..." Leliana paused, "Alistair."

"Right." Melori nodded, folding her hands in her lap. "It makes no sense, so far. But the portion of the documents regarding the manhunt seem to indicate that he is the target."

"But why?" Leliana asked, "And how do we find him? Alistair knows how to survive. Even if we wanted to, it would be impossible to find him with everything else we are doing."

"I don't know. I don't even know for certain that I'm correct, except for this: the Warden they want is definitely male and he's from Ferelden, and there are warnings telling the searchers to be wary of him. All my research says that there are few, if any new wardens from Ferelden, and the only one who would require a warning would be, I would think, the one who killed an Archdemon." Melori sat back in her chair, "I remember him very clearly from those few days in the Circle Tower. He looked like a Templar, but he didn't behave like one."

"No, he never did that," Leliana agreed, smiling a little. "And now, he is … different. The last time I saw him, he was harder, sharper. A true Grey Warden, as in the songs and tales."

"I have a lot left to decipher." Melori worried at the cuff on her sleeve. "Are you sure you want me to stay up here more often?"

"Yes," Leliana said, giving her a reproachful look. "You spend too much time alone in that little room. I do not think it can be good for you."

"But I do so much work when I'm alone," the elf protested, feeling her ears turning red. She didn't mention that it also let her hide how she was missing a particular Templar.

"You do good work!" Leliana answered, smiling. "Perhaps we simply miss the sight of you."

"Would it be rude of me to say I don't entirely trust you?" Melori said, her smile wry.

"Perhaps a little," Leliana laughed. "Dorian said he needed someone to help him find certain books, and the other librarians find him frustrating."

"You couldn't have sent me to help Solas instead?" Melori asked, sighing. "Dorian _is_ frustrating."

"I find him quite charming!" Leliana laughed. "And I think you will, too. Give him a chance, Melori."

* * *

Melori shoved her desk into the space opposite Dorian on the far side of the library. In order to speak with her, he would have to walk around past all the other mages, scholars, and messengers who used the library for research, which, she decided, would be worth it even if it inconvenienced him only a little. Sadly, he was atheletic enough to not mind the distance, social enough to be annoying, and parked himself beside her desk almost immediately.

"You know, you would love me if only you would just talk to me," He said, leaning against the bookshelf next to her while she searched for a volume on the History of the Third Blight. "I always have the best gossip."

"I'm working, Ser Pavus," She said, pulling a volume from the shelf and paging through it. She wasn't really even considering which book it was, she just wanted him to take the hint and go away. It was a faint hope at this point. "Please."

He placed a beringed finger on the top of the book and tilted it down so he could look her in the eye, "My name is Dorian, Lady Librarian, and I can't imagine what you would want with ..." he closed his other fingers on the volume and drew it away. "_The Compiled Randy Dowager Quarterly_?" He lifted an elegantly sculpted brow at her, "I had no idea! Well," He tossed the book on a nearby table, "If you want to discuss smut, I'm your man."

Her ears were on fire, she was certain of it. "Ser Pavus ..."

"Dorian."

"Ser Dorian," she turned, her chin lifting as she spoke. "I am _not interested_. At this point, I cannot even guess what you hope to get out of this, unless you find it entertaining to drive me out of my mind!" Little sparks zipped along her fingers and she hugged herself, tucking her hands against her sides.

"I do admit, I am enjoying myself," he said, leaning forward and speaking quietly. "And I _do_ have an ulterior motive."

"I knew it."

"Lady Leliana told me something of your situation," he said,_ sotto voce_, "And, as I am a gentleman and a mage, I said I would do what I could."

"My situation?" Melori's brow furrowed. "I have no _situation_. I work for the Inquisition and I do not think I have given anyone reason to complain. Have I?"

"I think it is only a matter of time," he said, voice shifting as he grew more serious. "You are a mage ... no, do not deny what is obvious to anyone with a spark of intelligence ... but you do not practice. You do not _utilize_ your skills. While your control is admirable, this," he reached quickly for one of her hands and pulled it between them, the thrum of her anxiety obvious to both of them in the little flickers of energy running across her skin. "... is how we fall."

"But ..."

"Shall we make an agreement?"

She frowned, glancing around to see if anyone was watching them, but it seemed they had gone unnoticed. "If we must."

"I will help you find a way to use your magic, if you will find it in your heart to trust me, just a little."

Melori's shoulders curved and she removed her hand from his, tucking it back against her side. "I don't want to be a mage where everyone ... _knows_. They will bring the Circles back, and then they will force us into them. I don't want to go back. I _cannot_ go back."

"Then we will find a way to hide your power, though...," he glanced at her hair, "with your affinity for storms that might prove difficult."

"Oh gods, is it standing all on end?" she gasped.

* * *

Melori's room was above the garden, a small nook just below the Inquisitor's tower with a good view of the flowers and trees blow. When he was at Skyhold, Hugh bunked nearer to Cullen's tower with the other Templars. It had seemed odd after spending so long sharing space, but Lady Vivienne had insisted it was the proper way of things and that the Inquisition had a reputation to uphold. Melori avoided Senior Enchanter Vivienne with more determination than she did the Templars, but they'd had little choice in this particular matter. And it was a nice room now that the hole in the roof had been mended.

Still, it was late and, while she had managed to extricate herself from a _disastrous_ game of Wicked Grace before Bull won _more_ than the chance to see her hair down, she was still buzzy enough to have to navigate carefully. In the Great Hall she turned right and began climbing the stairs, but she paused at the door to the library, thinking of books and birds and work yet to do. It was so different from what had been on her mind a moment before, she looked around wondering if someone had suggested it, but there was no one nearby.

_"I must be worse off than I thought,_" she told herself, opening the door and turning left instead of the right that would lead toward her room.

Once inside, she made her way to where Dorian had placed his lovely, tufted chair, and took a seat on it. She crossed her leg over one knee as she had seen him do, a grin upon her face, thinking that if he was going to nose his way into her life, she was going to sit on his chair whenever he wasn't around - just so she would know she had. It might not be an equal exchange, but it made her feel better. There was a book on Tevinter history nearby and she picked it up, paging through till she found something interesting to read, kicking her shoes off and pulling her feet up underneath her for comfort.

It was an interesting narration, and she read for a while, only stopping when a sound caught her attention and drew her eyes along the stacks. "_Aneth'ara_?" she whispered, then frowned remembering that Solas was gone with the Inquisitor and it could not be him. Carefully, she left the confines of Dorian's chair and walked in stocking feet in what her tenuously sober self considered a straight path to whoever was lingering among the books.

"I ..." She began, stopping in her tracks when she found an unexpected shape leaning against a shelf, reading by the light of one of the hanging braziers. "Oh," She said intelligently. "Sorry, Commander."

"Enara," Cullen said, and she stopped, placing a hand against the wall to keep from walking into it. Her balance was at that weird stage of drunk where you _feel _fine until you try to move. "I didn't know you were there."

"Oh ... well," she pushed her hair out of her eyes and wrinkled her nose. "I _am_ a librarian."

His lips curved into a smile that left her feeling a little more drunk than she had a moment earlier. "When you're not wielding a sword or keeping watch through the night?"

"Those are just the side jobs," she said, nodding sagely as she turned to put her back firmly against the nearest bookshelf in the interest of balance. "Among other accomplishments, I am _also_ completely rubbish at games of chance."

"I would not have guessed that about you," he chuckled.

"Well, it's something I learned just tonight," She admitted ruefully. "I rather suspected they were cheating, but it was more likely my own stupidity."

"Did you lose very much?"

Melori grinned and shook her head, her hair swinging around her face in a long, curling mess. "Bull took my hair clips and ribbons. I guess I should be lucky he didn't take my clothes, too."

"You'd ... er you look very different like that," he paused, his cheeks flushing, and cleared his throat, saying quickly, "I'm not used to seeing you dressed in a robe."

She looked down at herself and the black and red garment she'd purchased off one of the castle merchants, flushing a little. "Oh ... well, it's warmer than the leathers. And I do still have all my gear in my room, though I'm starting to think I'll never leave Skyhold again to use them. Too much to do."

"Don't I know it!" he rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "I came looking for one thing and became distracted by another ..."

"Maybe I could find it for you?"

"I …" he looked at her. "I don't think I need it anymore."

"Oh, well, that's good then," she yawned a little and pushed away from the bookshelf, "I should probably go to bed."

"Wait ..." he caught her arm and she stopped half-turning to look at him. "Enara, I …"

"What is it?" She noticed that he looked very pale and worn, and she thought of all the possible nightmares he had seen in the waking world, some of which she had witnessed herself. "Are you all right?"

He sighed and let her go. "Better now. Thank you. I needed to see a friendly face tonight."

"There are plenty of those here, Commander," she smiled. "But if you ever want to talk, I loiter round here like a ghost."

"I'll remember that," he said, bowing. "Good night.

"_Dirath Shiral_, Commander." She said, making her way around the curve of the library and onto the balcony where Lady Vivienne usually sat. She was halfway across when someone grabbed her wrist and she turned to find a tall, pale boy with a very large hat staring at her with unsettling eyes.

"Ah! Let me go!"

"You like him but you do not go closer. I thought you would," he said. "He likes you."

"What? Who are you?" She asked, trying to pull her arm away. "I like a lot of people."

"Oh, I see. You like someone else. Someone like the Commander, but far away. You miss him. You miss the safety and the warmth, the way he looks at you when he thinks you're not looking … But you helped tonight. I couldn't help, but you did."

She stared at him, her brows coming together in concern. "What _are_ you?"

"I'm Cole," he said, simply. "But you won't remember."

And when Melori awoke a few hours later, she didn't remember him at all.

* * *

"I'm going to kill him," the Lady Seeker hissed, her strikes coming at Melori so hard and fast it was all she could do to just stand in front of the warrior and take the hits on her blade. It was either that or scramble away, neither being a particularly good option under the circumstances. Normally, when she sparred with Cassandra it was a very light version of what happened between the Seeker and the Templars – Melori didn't carry a shield and she wasn't exactly an accomplished swordswoman. But today Cassandra had marched into the practice ring with heat waves visible over her head and death in her eyes. Without Hugh to step in and take the Seeker's fury and none of the other Templars willing to risk their own necks, it had fallen to Melori to act as a training dummy.

Unfortunately, she'd _seen_ the remnants of Cassandra's practices and she was starting to wonder if she might join them. It was all she could do to just stand there and take the blows raining down on her blade, and she could feel her arm going progressively more and more numb. The problem was, if she moved, Cassandra would move, and Cassandra was far faster than Melori ever hoped to be.

"Kill … who …?" Melori panted, feeling her feet slipping through the straw and sand. She swallowed and shifted, trying to catch the descending blade at a better angle, and winced when Cassandra gave her an angry shove, staggering her back across the practice ring.

"That dwarf," Cassandra growled. "He _lied_ to me!"

"Oh," Melori shied away as the Seeker thrust a wee bit close to her ear.

"He _knew_ where Hawke was the entire time!" The Seeker's next strike was followed by a boot to the leg. Melori collapsed to one knee, seeing stars. Creator help her. That had been her bad leg … "He told me had no idea!"

"I …" but she was too busy trying to stagger to her feet as Cassandra broke away, stalking around the ring. Melori limped back several steps, trying to find a guard position she thought she could maintain. She should have begged to become an archer, she thought wrily. The Inquisitor could have taught her, instead of the bloody right hand of the Divine. The Inquisitor was nice. She had pretty hair and dressed well, and she had a thing for Gray Wardens … Cassandra was a demon … maybe an Arche Demon. She was certainly scary enough.

"I see," Melori gasped when she thought she'd found the ground again.

"Do you?" Cassandra asked, and while Melori knew that the rage was not directed at her, she quailed. This was going to hurt. More. It was going to hurt more.

But Cassandra seemed to realize that the wobbling elf in front of her was not actually a sparring dummy and came forward, holding out her hand. "I am sorry, Melori. I did not mean to take my frustrations out on you."

"That's … okay," Melori took the offered hand and let the Seeker pull her more properly to her feet with a groan. Her leg was spasming. "Just … need a minute, I think."

"Should I get a healer? Solas might be able to do something … "

"I don't think I'm going to be climbing the stairs right yet," Melori wobbled over to a bale of hay next to the fence and dropped down, her sword across her good leg, the left stretched out. Cassandra sat beside her and handed her a healing potion she'd taken from her belt.

"Here," she said, her expression one of contrition. "You are doing better and then I nearly pummel you to death."

Melori drank the potion down and tried to catch her breath. "The Venatori would do worse. They'd just kill me. If you don't beat the tar out of me, how am I supposed to stand up to them if I have to?"

The look Cassandra gave her was worried, "You are correct about that. I worry about sending you back into the field, though Leliana said she must. You know about the Gray Wardens – their history, their movements, and now their ciphers. You've met them."

"Well, two of them. I was fifteen at the time. And I've met Blackwall."

"It makes you a valuable tool for Leliana," Cassandra said, giving her a sideways glance. "I will do what I can to help you survive."

"Thank you for that. I know you're only doing this because Hugh asked you to," Melori said, sitting up as the pain her leg began to ease with the potion's help. "I'm grateful for the help, all the same."

"I may have started because he asked, but you are proving to be an interesting student," Cassandra smiled and Melori felt an unfamiliar flush of pride sting her cheeks. "A long way to go yet, but very interesting." The Seeker stood to her feet and stretched, her sword flashing in the air. "Now I am going to go yell at that dwarf."

The elf winced, "Good luck?"

"Thank you, but I do not need it."

.

* * *

NOTE: Thank you for your patience, those of you eager to see other characters. You should be pleased with the chapter 15.


	15. Chapter 15

Note: _To avoid driving myself insane, in my Thedas, they have pencils. They're dwarven made in the Shaperate at Orzammar and they're WILDLY popular. So. There. That's why and how._

Note II: _Please know that I am reading all the lovely comments. I know there are things some of you want very badly to see in my story, and I hope that I can make you happy. : ) They might not all happen in one chapter, though. heh heh . _

Note III_: Playing a little bit with the continuity here, fair warning._

* * *

.

_There is one pain I often feel, which you will never know. It is caused by the absence of you. ~ _Anthony Hopkins

.

* * *

"Journal, pencils, pens, string, extra nibs, extra ink, storage pouches for books, scroll cases, loose paper, a knife for sharpening, a knife for food, a …" she looked over her bed, trying to remember where'd she'd put the sealing wax. Packing for anything always made her nervous, so she created a carefully edited list, laid everything out in an orderly fashion, and then packed it all carefully into her bag - while checking off the list - otherwise she was always convinced she'd left her underwear or something incredibly necessary behind. This time, she had more than she was used to taking, because she'd added a sword and all the varied maintenance materials that went with it, to the list.

"Where _is_ it?" She got down on her hands and knees beside the bed and found it near the headboard in the back. "Andraste's … tits .." she hissed and crawled along after it. Someone knocked on the door behind her and she yelled, "Come in!" without really considering her position.

"Well, that's a nice view," a familiar voice said with a laugh.

"HUGH!" She scrambled and bumped her head. "Just … just a moment … ow …"

When she managed to stand up, he had dropped his bag to the floor and was leaning against the wall with a slight smile on his lips. He was wind-blown and his color was high, still in his armor. Melori stared at him for a moment, and he laughed, stepping forward to wrap his arms around her waist and lift her up, his lips finding hers for a long, sweet moment. "Hello, you."

"Hello," she said, her arms tight around his neck. He smelled of wind, snow, and leather, his lips were rough from days out doors, and his face was more tanned than it had been before. She reached up to thread her fingers through his dark hair and kissed him again, the scent of the sun on his skin and in his clothes. "You must have come straight here from the gate."

"I did," he said, nuzzling into her neck and laying kisses along the line of her throat until she was distracted and unintelligible. "I was gone too long as it was and felt the need to make up for lost time."

He set her back down on her feet and drew his gauntlets from his hands. Melori moved around to help him with his cuirass, unbuckling the straps with skill now that she'd had some practice with her own. As she moved past him, his fingers caught her hair, only partly braided back this day, and he exhaled.

"Hugh, I …" she began, looking back at where her bags lay stacked on a chair and all her gear was strewn on the bed. "I'm heading to Crestwood with the Inquisitor's party at first light."

"I saw Lady Pentaghast on my way to the Hall and she informed that you would be going with them. She also said she thought you were more than capable of holding your own now, so long as you are among allies," He paused to look at her, his expression hardening. "I do not know that I am able to let you go …"

Melori finished setting his armor to the side, looking up to where he stood in his trousers and padding, somehow just as imposing even without all the metal. "Can you ask to come with us?"

"I am _required_ elsewhere," he answered in a bitter tone. "Knight Commander Barris wishes me to help train the new recruits and it is my duty to do so. Sadly, he has the means to force the issue," his tone was grim on the last phrase. "I should have left the Order entirely when Cullen did. More fool I."

"But … what can he do to you?" Melori asked, alarmed. He pulled her nearer, cupping her face between his hands and looking into her eyes for a long moment before kissing her again.

"It is not important. I will do my duty and you will return safely from yours," he said softly, pressing his lips to her forehead, over the lines of the _vallaslin_. She made a sound, not quite a sigh, and he paused, lips quirking at the expression in her eyes. "We do still have the time until morning."

* * *

Melori watched the stars disappear one by one outside her little window, Hugh's arm was around her waist and his head against her breast. All the carefully gathered and organized items she'd been packing a few hours earlier lay scattered across the floor where they'd been unceremoniously dumped. She trailed her fingers down the back of his neck, unreasonably pleased when he shivered in response and pulled her closer. In all her imaginings, she thought, looking down at the way his dark hair contrasted with her pale skin, she'd never imagined him. Never thought she would meet someone who could … undo her as he had. As he was still undoing.

"I don't want to go," she whispered, closing her eyes and curling around him. "I want to stay right here until the world ends or the Inquisitor saves us all."

"And then what will you do?" he whispered back, opening one dark eye and tilting his head to look up at her.

"Then we'll steal away together to the Amaranthine Sea and find an island where no one cares who were we are or who we were … somewhere without Circles or Templars or any of that nonsense. We'll be completely impractical and never leave the other behind."

"You've thought this through," he answered, tugging on her tangled hair.

"Just a little, just now," She answered. "I supposed we'd have to tell your family where we were going, or they'd worry."

"It's only my father left now," he said. "An old man in a high house on a hill, waiting to join my mother at the Maker's side. When he's gone I'll close the house and sell the land. Perhaps to buy the boat we'll require."

"I'm holding you to this plan now, you know," she laughed, leaning down to kiss him, lingering there because she knew that she should get up and gather her things. Eventually, she untangled herself and left the bed, not really even caring if she forgot something, just staring at the pack and all the things on the floor. Hugh got up then and made sure she was ready and had everything properly stowed. As though that was just one more small thing he could do to protect her as she traveled without him.

* * *

The courtyard was buzzing, despite the lack of light. Torches had been lit and the horses were saddled and stamping, waiting for their riders. Melori, dressed in her leather and light armor, carried her bags and sheathed blade down the stairs from the Great Hall. She hadn't wanted to say good bye in a courtyard full of onlookers for fear she might embarrass herself and had told Hugh not to follow her. Still, she looked up to the wall as she walked, knowing he had meant it when he said he'd watch them leave.

"Hey, Ribbons," Iron Bull said from where he was standing to one side of the group. He and Solas preferred to walk, generally - Bull because there were few horses big enough and Solas because he enjoyed it.

"Ribbons?," Melori asked, setting her bags down next to the horse Dennet had assigned her - a small, but clever-footed Orlesian mare with a dapple gray coat and long black stockings.

"For your hair ," He smiled, watching her carefully tie her bags in place. "Everyone gets a nickname, eventually."

"Between you and Varric, I have so many now," She said, sliding her blade into the loops on the saddle so that it could be pulled while she was mounted or on the ground. She eyed it and glanced at him, "Does Varric have a nickname?"

"Not one I can repeat in polite company," he chuckled.

"That figures," She finished tying things down, and walked her horse in a circle while they waited. Over near the gate, the Inquisitor was speaking quietly to Cassandra and Blackwall, their heads bent together. Dorian had not yet arrived, though his horse was standing ready near the others - already packed. Solas was outside the gates waiting for them on the causeway, according to the guard. The wind was cold and she pulled Hugh's cloak closer, breathing in the scent of him off the soft wool. Finally, Dorian came bounding down from the keep, a dark blue cloak tossed about his shoulders, and everyone who wasn't already in the saddle moved to their horses.

Bull gave Melori a leg up, and she turned toward the gate. The dawn was breaking in the east as she looked upward to the battlements, finding Hugh standing with one hand braced against the wall, the long, soft light throwing him into silhouette. Her horse shied impatiently and Melori turned her in a tight circle, not wanting to look away.

"Please tell me you're not going to just stand there and stare at him like that?" Bull asked, giving her a sideways look. "The whole 'soulful gaze' thing?"

"If I go to him now, I won't return and they'll send you up there to carry me back down," She answered.

"Ahh, but I might enjoy that," He laughed.

"You might just," she answered.

Hers was the last horse through the gate, and she spent a good deal of the descent looking behind her toward the wall.

* * *

She was dozing off in the saddle again, her head nodding tiredly. She'd had no sleep the night before and it was becoming very difficult to stay awake with the easy rocking motion of her horse's gait. Ahead of her the Inquisitor and Blackwall were riding side by side, speaking about something she could not quite hear. Cassandra rode just behind them, her posture perfect, even after several hours in the saddle. Melori envied her that easy grace, but wasn't sure she'd want the baggage that came with it.

Varric and Dorian were just behind her, laughing uproariously and telling one another truly embarrassing tales that were turning her ear-tips pink. Bull walked along at the back, his giant blade across one shoulder, every now and then adding another story to the ones Dorian and Varric were telling. Solas was ... somewhere. She hadn't seen him much this journey, though his horse ambled along with the group.

They were still in the mountains that first day, and she knew she ought to have been taking notes, but she'd had no sleep and her head felt so heavy she ...

"_Emma'na Souveri?"_

She jerked, startled back awake by the sound of Solas' voice and had to grip the pommel to regain her balance. "Ah, Solas. I ... yes. I am tired."

"You are usually so lively, I wondered if you were well," he said, but there was something his smile that made her blush to the tips of her ears.

"Eh ... well," she cleared her throat. "Packing is a lot of work, and I haven't left Skyhold since we arrived. I'm afraid I was a little nervous about everything."

"I see," he looked down at the road as he walked, but she could see the way his eyes were smiling and had a great desire to be anywhere but where she was. "I suppose," he continued, "that is why you required the Templar's aid?"

Melori covered her face with one hand, feeling as though her entire body was suffused with heat. "I don't want to know how you came to whatever conclusion you've obviously come to, Solas."

"You hide your feelings poorly, _ma'falon_," he said, tilting his head to look up at her.

"In this case, I don't kn ow what I should be hiding or how I would begin to go about it. It's all very new," she said, letting her hands fall and praying her face would not stay so brightly red. She glanced over to him, her lips twisting a little. "You don't find it disgusting that I've taken up with a human?"

"That is a Dalish sentiment," he said, glancing at her. "If it brings you happiness, I have no objections." *

"Oh," She looked out over the snowy, mountainous landscape and shook her head. "Right now it's making me miserable."

"But a misery you would be unhappier to lose," Solas observed.

* * *

Crestwood, when they arrived, was as rainy as the nearby Storm Coast and served to remind her of Caro with every cold, uncomfortable drop. That the environments were different didn't seem to matter, it was close enough to the same rain. Of course, she didn't have time to spend brooding, there were so many undead in the area that they'd been fighting since leaving the scout camp and their mounts. She'd barely had time to take in the bleak looking lake with its storm of green fire, but, once she had, Melori felt her stomach sour. No wonder there were monsters everywhere. She didn't envy the Inquisitor the task of closing it.

Her task, on the other hand, presented itself rather quickly. Fighting through the mobs of undead, they came upon a crossroads just outside the town itself and heard a scream followed by the sound of a blade chunking into flesh. A tall man sporting a griffon on his surcoat stood between an elven woman and a mass of undead, swinging his blade with such great efficiency that it only took two of the Inquisitor's arrows to put the rest down.

"Oh, thank you, Ser," the elf said earnestly, her face pale with tear-streaked fear. "I would have died had you not come along."

"No thanks needed," the warden said as he pushed back the face shield on his helm to get a closer look at their party. He bowed, "The Grey Wardens thank you for your aid, my friends."

"What are the Grey Wardens doing in Crestwood?" The Inquisitor asked, stepping to the front.

"Hunting a rogue warden, I'm sad to say," he answered, crossing his arms over his chest. "We've got orders from Warden Commander Clarel to bring him in for questioning. Heard he'd passed through here, but haven't seen any sign of him. The villagers knew nothing about it, but they've been distracted by their own troubles."

"A rogue Grey Warden? Perhaps we can help. Who are you looking for, exactly?" The Inquisitor asked, but the man just shook his head.

"Warden Alistair is a good man, I don't want to set a manhunt on him, for all we need to bring him in. This is Warden business and that's how it should stay."

"I wish you luck, Ser."

"Thank you," he bowed again and started up the road. "Be careful in these parts. There's nowhere safe right now."

They watched him go, and, when he had gone out of earshot, everyone turned to look at Melori and Varric. She frowned and shrugged, "I got his name right, but I still don't know what's going on."

"That means we need to find Hawke," Varric said, turning to look at the Inquisitor. "Do you want us to go on ahead while you close that rift in the lake?"

"I think that would be wise," she answered, frowning out to where the green light burned and curled over the water. "If we don't, we're in as much danger as the people here."

"All right then," he said, "I'll take the Librarian, Sparkler, and Tiny to see what we can find." He glanced toward Cassandra with a lifted brow, "If that's all right with you?"

"Fine, I trust at least one of you well enough to let you go without us," Cassandra replied, glancing at Melori.

Varric bristled. "I think you and I have a very different definition of loyalty, Seeker."

"Would you two just stop?" The Inquisitor sighed. "Cassandra, Solas, and Blackwall will come with me. You four head to find Hawke, as Varric suggested. Just ... stay out of trouble, all right?"

"But trouble's my middle name, Boss!"

"I'm serious, Bull." She answered. "Maker keep all of you."

* * *

The Champion of Kirkwall was tall. She definitely looked like she could give Cassandra a run for her money; they both had that quality that said, when you met them, that they could probably rip your throat out before you remembered you had one but were being polite by not attacking right away. On the other hand, Hawke smiled when she saw Varric and clasped his hand with a firm grasp. Unlike Cassandra, there was a strangely open sense to her that drew a person in right away.

"You," Dorian said into her ear. "are adorable. I'd never have guessed you were one for hero-worship." Her jaw snapped shut at that and Melori glared at him, but he only laughed.

"My contact is inside," Hawke said, tilting her head back to the cave behind her. "It's an old smuggler's hideout, but it's safe enough."

"There are other wardens in the area," Varric told her, shifting Bianca to his shoulder. "They didn't seem to think there was anything left to find, though."

"Glad they didn't come this way," She answered, looking over the group with him. "Did you bring the Inquisitor?"

"She had to go close the rift in the lake, but she'll be here. We thought the Librarian over here might have a talk with him while we wait. Melori's been spending some time parsing one of the old Warden documents she found. That was our first sign that something was up with them."

"I ... er ... I don't mind waiting for the Inquisitor," Melori said nervously.

"No, it's a good idea," Hawke said. "I'll take you to him."

* * *

.

* I haven't been able to find anything to say that Solas would find a human/elf relationship particularly bothersome, given that he seems to have issues finding any modern elves who meet his standards. :)

Note IV: _I completely admit that the next chapter will be completely self-indulgent. I have a weakness for former Templars, apparently. :D  
_


	16. Chapter 16

Note: _So... rewriting this scene from the game a bit. . Then we'll go back to our regular scheduled programming._

Note II: _Rewrote the Alistair scene about four times before I figured out how to make it flow properly. O.o I like how it is now. _

* * *

.

"_Perhaps strength doesn't reside in never having been broken,  
but in the courage to grow strong in the broken places". ~ _Unknown

.

* * *

The others remained at the entrance to wait for the Inquisitor while Hawke led Melori through the cave to where a barrier had been built across the width of the tunnel. Beyond the door, the cave opened out into a circular space with a large mass of stalagmites and stalactites at the center. A table covered in maps and books was pushed up against them some distance from the door. Melori stepped inside, peering into the candle-lit gloom, but she could see no sign of the Warden. She walked further into the cavern, looking into the shadows, her braid swishing a little as she turned in a slow circle only to come to a dead halt when she found a blade at her throat and followed it up to find a stone-faced warden just beyond the hilt.

She backed up a step, which helped not at all when he followed, his blade still pointed at her throat. "I … I'm with the Inquisition." She held her hands up slowly, "Please don't kill me?"

"Alistair," Hawke said from the doorway. "She's with me. The Inquisitor is on her way."

There was a pause, a breath of consideration, and then the blade came down and was resheathed. Melori breathed a sigh of relief. This was not a man to take lightly, she thought.

"But who _are_ you?" he said, he glancing between them and crossing his arms. "Not that I couldn't use a little company."

"Ah … well, I'm a librarian collecting information for the Inquisition," she answered a little awkwardly. "They thought I should talk to you because I've been working on a Grey Warden cipher we found in the Storm Coast," she folded her hands together. "I … ah … figured out they were hunting you from that, but we still don't know why."

"I suppose you have a name beyond 'Librarian'? I do like to have names for the allies I've almost beheaded," he asked, pacing. She was getting the distinct impression he'd been in this particular cave longer than he'd have liked.

"Oh!" She caught herself before the urge to babble took over. "I'm Melori Enara. You … I met you a long time ago, just after Ostagar."

"Did you?" He paused. "Where you in the Brecillian Forest? We met a lot of elves there."

"Oh, no. I'm not … I mean. I was at the Circle Tower in Ferelden during the Blight," she said the last a little desperately. "You and Surana are the reason I'm still alive."

_That_ caught his attention. "Well," a small smile crooked at the corner of his mouth and he said, "I also killed an arch demon, you know."

"I thought you were sick of hearing about that?" Hawke said from the door.

"Hey, it's not every day someone mentions something _else_ we did back then. It was always go here or do that. We won't help you fight the Blight until you've solved all the petty squabbles between the elves and dwarves and arls and mages! No one _ever_ remembers anything but the giant, smelly dragon," he chuckled.

"I didn't get to see that particular dragon and I've never seen a darkspawn," Melori said quietly. "But I've seen abominations and blood mages. That's what I remember of the Blight."

"Yes, well … it was different for everyone, I guess, and all of it bad. And here we're still fighting all the same shit," He paused. "You said you'd cracked a Warden cipher?"

Melori nodded. "Some of it, anyway. We knew enough to confirm who you were, but little else. It … ah… took me a while to get to them. Then Haven was demolished and we retreated to Skyhold … and, well, it's a bloody difficult cipher!"

"I'm going to go check the entrance again," Hawke said, heading back toward into the dark tunnel.

Alistair nodded to her, turning attention back to Melori, "You knew Surana?"

"Not well. I was fifteen when the Blight began and she was older than I. _And_ I was studying to be an archivist, which meant we were in different areas of the Tower most days. But we were in the same dormitory and I remember when she left to join the Wardens. I ..." she glanced over her shoulder at toward the doorway, folding her arms across her chest. "I remember First Enchanter Irving saying that she had incredible skill for someone so young."

"Hmm," he gave her an odd look, glancing down to the sword at her hip. "You don't exactly look like a mage."

"That's because I'm a Librarian. I assure you I was there when you saved all our lives," Melori smiled. "Just before you climbed up the Tower into the midst of all those abominations, you stopped to tell all of the apprentices jokes to make us laugh. You knew what we didn't - that the Templars were waiting for the Orders of Annulment and you knew we were terrified. I distinctly remember one joke about stinky cheese."

"Oh, yes. That one," he smiled. "Surana always slaps me on the back of the head when I tell that one."

"Are you and she ... I mean, the stories say you were married," Melori asked, watching his face change as she asked. He looked warmer in that moment, his smile easing as he thought of the distant Hero of Ferelden.

"Yes," he answered. "When I'm done here -"

There was a sound in the tunnel beyond and he put his hand out toward her, reaching for his blade. Melori moved back into the shadows. She hoped it was just Hawke and not a band of Grey Wardens come to take Alistair away. If it were the latter ... well, that was a frightening thought. Grey Wardens were hardened warriors and would likely make short work of her. Still, her hand closed tightly on the hilt of her sword, she knew where her loyalty lay.

The Inquisitor walked into the cavern, much the same way Melori had, and ended up with a blade to the throat before the elf could say a word. Hawke was quick to step in again, however. "This is the Inquisitor, Alistair."

* * *

A while later Melori found herself back in the rain and the wind, crouched on the edge of a cliff overlooking a castle full of highwaymen, the lake with its twisting, vile-looking rift magic visible just beyond it. After they'd made sure Alistair and Hawke had got safely out of Crestwood, the Inquisitor had led the group to see why she had not yet been able to close the fade rift under the lake.

"Too many of them for just the four of us," she said, pointing out the patrols along the walls. "But we should be able take them now with everyone here."

Melori wasn't so certain it was a good idea, personally, but, compared to the rest of the group, she was by far the least experienced. _Fear is good_, she told herself. _Fear will keep you alive_. Telling herself that didn't actually help the way she'd hoped it would, however, and she tucked her hands under her elbows, frowning down at the walls of Caer Bronach. If Hugh were with them, it would be safer, she thought with a pang, but, lacking him, she decided to just pick someone and shadow them … though even that plan had problems: following Bull would get her decapitated, and Cassandra was going to be at the head of the charge. Everyone else was either a mage or had a bow.

"You look positively green," Dorian said when they had come down off the ridge and began to ready their gear.

"I ..." she swallowed and looked down at her blade. "I'm trying very hard not to be sick."

"You know, given how brilliant I am and how much you simply adore listening to every word I bother to utter, perhaps I could give you a little advice?"

"Honestly?" Melori fidgeted with her sword, not meeting his gaze. "I am not going to say no to that."

His eyebrow lifted and he smiled in that particular way he had that was both incredibly arrogant and oddly charming. "Finally! I thought I was going to have to argue with you _yet again. _Come with me, my dear girl. This will take but a moment."

She followed him along the path till they were out of sight of the others and Dorian said, very quietly. "Feeling a little vulnerable are we?"

"Incredibly so," she answered, wondering where her mind had gone, her words a torrent of panicked anxiety. "I can't fight like Cassandra. And Bull is actively dangerous to anyone within a five or six foot radius of his person. I'm supposed to be in the middle somewhere, but... I don't know what to do. And I'm going to get someone killed ... if I don't get myself killed first. And what do you think they'd do if suddenly I turn into a mage in the middle of the fight? You found me out in Haven because I of just such a thing. Cassandra is far less forgiving." She remembered the look in Cassandra's eyes the day they had practiced after the Seeker had discovered Varric's lies about Hawke. Melori shuddered, and felt a little dizzy. "I would very much like to avoid that."

"Exactly why I pulled you aside," Dorian said. "I have been thinking about your sword abilities and a few ... possibilities. Little things you can do during a fight. Gestures of magic meant to combine into a spell that you can hide. _I _do not care to be subtle, but you could make an art of it."

"Anything, Dorian. I will do whatever you tell me if it will keep me from ... well, accidentally killing the Inquisitor, for one. We'd all miss her and then Corypheus would bring the world down around our ears."

"Well, we wouldn't make it _that_ easy," he laughed. "I, for one, have no intention of dying to a darkspawn."

"Look, even if it's difficult, I'll do it," Melori said, grabbing hold of his sleeve.

"Of course. It's nothing elaborate to begin. It requires a slight manipulation ..."

* * *

As castle doors go, Caer Bronach's was both large and heavy. It was built of heavy wooden planking and was fastened with heavy metal plating. Melori was convinced of its solidity enough that she wasn't entirely sure how they planned to get inside without a battering ram. In the rainy, gloomy atmosphere of Crestwood, the thing looked impenetrable.

"Hey Boss, want me to knock?"

"Of course, Bull. Please, send our regards," The Inquisitor said from the back, already sighting down the length of an arrow, eyes bright behind the curve of her bow.

The Qunari advanced upon the door and took a deep breath. He'd picked up a giant axe somewhere along the way, its razor edge and heavy weight something only a Qunari or a group of intensely determined dwarves could have managed, and he swung it back and forth, back and forth - as though he were gathering up power. Melori, who had been standing next to Cassandra, felt it prudent to take a few steps back, and bumped into Solas.

"_Shem'dara, da'mi_," he whispered just as Bull pulled the axe back and began to swing forward. "The fighting will begin as soon as the door is down."

She swallowed hard, feeling the sudden urge to be sick, watching as Bull's axe impacted the gate with enough force to bow it inward. The Qunari growled, his muscles bunching and flexing as he pulled back and swung again. The door cracked and began to buckle. "Hah! There we go," He laughed and the next swing knocked the door to Caer Bronach completely off its hinges.

Bull took a few arrows when he charged into the first ward, but he only roared and hit the waiting attackers harder. Cassandra blocked with her shield and spit the nearest highwayman on her blade, before knocking everything in front of her onto its ass by bashing her shield into them. Dorian and Solas concentrated on the archers on the wall while the Inquisitor and Varric got a little bit of everything, shot by careful shot.

Melori used the flickering gesture Dorian had shown her while she ducked and slid across the yard on the wet cobbles, and felt the magic glitter across her skin as the shield took hold. An arrow struck her shoulder but bounced away, and then she was in the middle of the mess, diving beneath a thrusting blade and turning to hit the man in the face with the hilt of her sword – a move Cassandra had taught her.

She was able to finish opponents the others had already wounded, avoiding direct confrontation as best she could. It wasn't as effective as Cassandra or Bull's tactics, but it kept Melori standing. The first melee was over in seconds, but there was no time to pause. She dazedly wiped blood off her face and ran after Cassandra, who kicked in the door to the next level of the keep. They had to duck as Bull followed, his axe carving a gory swath through the bandits waiting on the other side. Still more erupted from doors on the upper section of the terraced ward, and came down the stairs, running face first into either Bull's blade or Cassandra's shield, which she slammed into their ranks with frightening efficiency.

The mages, Varric, and the Inquisitor were not far behind, fire and ice glittering toward the battlements in great arcs. Dorian set a highwayman who looked to be at least half-giant on fire and followed it by knocking the screaming man back into the mass of his allies. The screams were horrible, but those who escaped the flames kept fighting, so Melori ran forward trying not to think too hard about what she was about to do as she made another gesture and her blade glittered with dancing energy. She crashed into the remnants of Dorian's attack, her electrified blade cutting an arc as she moved.

It wasn't easy. The ones who escaped were not as injured as Cassandra or Bull's foes. Some of them were well armed and skilled and she found herself having to dodge and then run. There was blood in her mouth, running down her head from a cut she'd taken, and she could feel others here and there – though it seemed unlikely that the blood was all her own. Another spell flashed past her and impacted among the armored thugs behind her with enough force to toss her off her feet. Melori rolled, dizzy, then found herself picked up and set back on her feet by a massive hand.

"No sleeping on the job, Ribbons," Bull chuckled. He looked like he'd taken a few choice hits himself, but he was laughing uproariously, the great axe whirling in sweeping, deadly arcs. He led the way up onto the second level of the inner courtyard, stopping to look back at Cassandra and the Inquisitor.

"Bull, hold this area," The Inquisitor ordered. "The rest of you, follow Cassandra."

The door in front of them seemed to explode under the force of the Seeker's shield, and it took out the man who had been waiting on the other side, blades flying uselessly away to clatter at the bottom of the stair behind him. Melori heard a brief scream, and Cassandra said, "Come! They are on the upper level."

"Damn, Librarian," Varric said as they ran up the stairs together, just behind the Inquisitor. "You look like somebody poured a bucket of blood over your head."

"I … I've been stabbing a lot of things," she said, breathing hard.

"So you have," He chuckled, lifting Bianca as they came to the stop of the stair. A bolt flew past Cassandra's shoulder and embedded itself in a bandit who had been just about to drop down from the rafters. He still dropped, but he was less alive than he'd intended to be a moment earlier. Melori sucked in a deep breath and shot after the Seeker, wishing her arms didn't feel quite so leaden. She heard Cassandra shout and then the sound of the Inquisitor's bow twanging ahead of them and pushed herself harder.

Around the corner she saw the Seeker locked in battle with a man who held a huge maul. Somehow Cassandra was avoiding the deadly swings, surging forward to knock him back with her shield before striking with her blade, then turning just in time to avoid damage. There were other highwaymen around him, though, and Melori ran at the nearest one, stabbing him clean through the back before turning to the next. Behind her, Solas released a wave of strange green light and the bandits staggered, including her opponent. Melori kicked him and the man fell backward, slipping on the rainy stone tiles before falling from the ramparts.

The scream as he fell shocked her and she hesitated, staring, then jerked around at the sound of her name only to see a woman coming at her with an axe. Melori lifted her blade, knowing it would be too late, but before the blow could fall, the bandit fell with an arrow in her chest, her sword clattering across the stones. She sucked in a breath and turned to see the Inquisitor nocking another arrow. One of Dorian's fire spells exploded in a gout of flame and Melori darted out of the way of the spreading flames, only to find herself face to face with the man with the giant maul. He was bleeding heavily, but there was still power and hate in his eyes.

"Shit," she squeaked.

Melori barely got out of the way of the maul as he let it fall toward her, feeling the power behind it as it cracked the stone where she had stood a moment before. Cassandra kicked him in the back of the knee and he fell forward, staggering, and then Cassandra sent her blade through his back and out his chest. His eyes went wide and staring, finding Melori's face as he fell to the rain slick stone and died. She sat there blinking rain and blood from her lashes until she realized it was over – there were no more enemies. Her stomach turned and she found her feet before running for the outer wall and retching helplessly over the side.

.

* * *

Note III: _The skills Dorian is currently teaching Melori are my own mental creation, but they _are_ going somewhere specifically canon-friendly, just so you know. :D_


	17. Chapter 17

NOTE: _Slowing down the posting a bit so I'm less tired and the writing is better._

* * *

"_You must read, you must persevere, you must sit up nights, you must inquire, and exert the utmost power of your mind. If one way does not lead to the desired meaning, take another; if obstacles arise, then still another; until, if your strength holds out, you will find that clear which at first looked dark."~_ Giovanni Boccaccio

* * *

"So, she seals the Rift and the rain goes away," Varric said, his hand over his eyes.

"Apparently," Melori answered, looking out over the lake to where the sickening green rift magic had once played above the now drained waters. "Not that I mind."

"I don't mind at all!" he answered amiably, "But this whole Herald of Andraste thing just keeps getting crazier and crazier, don't you think?"

"If an army of magical nugs suddenly appear, I'm out," she laughed. They were up at the top of Caer Bronach, looking out over the once-drowned town of Crestwood gleaming and wet beneath the light of the sun. "I keep trying to pinpoint where it all began, and I can't do it."

"I got a feeling this is almost as old as those hills out there," Varric sighed. "Hawke and I _killed_ Corypheus. He was as dead as we could make him, yet here he is again. If he's really one of those magisters who started the blights, who knows what's really going on? I sure don't."

"It's terrifying, isn't it?" She frowned down at drying lakebed far below and thought of Hugh, so far away while the world was falling down about them. "I suppose that's why we're following _her._ She keeps doing the right thing, over and over."

"That's a lot of pressure to put on one person," Varric said.

She gave him a sideways glance. "I hope you're writing it all down. I would like to be able to read about all the bits I've missed."

"How do I write about this shit?" he protested. "No one will believe it. And the way things are going, it's just getting crazier."

"If _you_ write it, people will believe it, I think," she said, climbing to her feet. "You _have_ read the Chant of LIght, haven't you? That's ridiculous beyond measure and almost every human I've ever met believed at least some of it."

"Fair point," he chuckled. "Though if my books ever become holy writ ..."

Melori snorted. "The sacraments would be what ... liquor and wicked grace?"

"Suits me just fine."

* * *

A week or so later, they returned to Skyhold. It seemed larger from the bottom of the valley where the camps were set up. Melori found it a little hard to imagine that she had lived so high above the world, ringed only by the peaks of the Frostbacks. It was also difficult not to urge her poor horse to move _faster_. Hugh hadn't been at the Templar training camp down in the valley, which meant he was in the Keep. For days and days along the road she had imagined every possible way things could have gone wrong in her absence. Dorian attempted to distract her by showing her how to better use her skills along the way, but he'd given up about a day away from Skyhold.

"Even I cannot compete with your little obsession," he had complained, riding away to speak with the Inquisitor and Cassandra instead.

Now, though, they were almost there and her heart was hammering in her chest and her ears were ringing a little.

"I think we're about to find out how long Ribbons can go without breathing," Bull said contemplatively to Varric.

"Catch her if she passes out," the dwarf said. "There are people up above who might make it uncomfortable if we lose her less than a mile from the gate."

"I'm not going to pass out," Melori said, glaring over her shoulder at the two of them.

"Not now that you're breathing again," Bull smirked.

Master Dennet and his stable hands greeted them and held the horses while they dismounted and gathered their gear. Melori was able to wait patiently enough to get off her horse, but the moment her things were in hand, she disappeared - running past everyone to the stairs of the keep and to her room. It was empty, which was a little disappointing, but she unloaded her gear and armor, pulled on a pair of more comfortable, less filthy boots and ran back out.

"Have you seen Ser Vestor?" she asked one of the page boys when she got back to the Great Hall.

"No, my Lady," he said. "Commander Cullen would likely know."

"Thank you," she smiled and jogged through the doorway into Solas' atrium and out the other side, over the wall walk to Cullen's office. Hugh had to be there … or nearby. He would have known they were coming back and waited for he, surely. She paused at the door, trying to catch her breath. Somewhere near the Maker's knee, Caro was laughing hysterically at Melori's plight. She was sure of it.

"Oh, Enara," Commander Cullen said from behind her. "I didn't expect you so quickly."

"What?" She asked, blinking at him.

He stepped beside her and opened the door, letting her enter ahead of him. "You are looking for Ser Vestor, I assume?"

"I am," she answered slowly, turning to face him once she'd got to the middle of the room. "But I don't understand why you would be expecting me to come to _you _when I'm looking for him."

"Ser Vestor formally left the Templar Order to join the Inquisition," Cullen explained, his arms folded over his chest. He was giving her an odd look, one that unsettled her, and she took a step back.

"He left the Order entirely?" she frowned, "But ... why?"

"I believe because he refused to give up his relationship with you," Cullen said simply. "He would not confirm or deny what sort of relationship it was, and when they demanded he remove himself from Skyhold to serve elsewhere, he flatly refused."

"Oh," she swallowed, wrapping her arms around her waist to hide the tremor of fear that was trickling up her spine. "Why would they do that? Lady Cassandra said Templars were not required to ... um ... take vows of chastity."

"But they are required to obey the demands of the Order and the Chantry." Cullen's voice was quiet, gentle even. "When that obedience is in doubt, the Order has the means to enforce its will. You know about the use of lyrium, surely."

Melori stared at him, her fingers clenching against her jacket. "Did they ...?"

"Yes."

* * *

Melori didn't entirely remember slamming out of the Commander's office or stalking along the battlements above the gate. The only thing on her mind was finding the first Templar she could and demanding that they release Hugh to her immediately because he wasn't a part of the Templar Order anymore. They had _no right._ Her anger was so hot, so consuming, she barely registered when Cullen caught her arm in a viselike grip and half-carried, half-dragged her back to into his office, holding her tightly even as she struggled to break free.

"Enara!" He barked, then hissed in pain, letting her go abruptly.

There were little sparks of blue light jumping off her hands and from her hair. She could feel them ... could feel that the edge of her control had slipped, was slipping. And then it hit what she had almost done. Her eyes widened and she nearly sagged to her knees right there.

"You're ..."

She looked away, not wanting to meet his eyes. "I'm just ..." her hand lifted, pressing against her lips. Even now, she couldn't say it. "I just want to know if he's all right." She whispered.

"Maker's breath," Cullen sat down on the edge of the desk and stared at her. "You're an apostate."

"I'm not," Melori snapped, saw the expression on Cullen's face, and stopped. She reined it all in with a terrible effort, gathering the fear and the fury and pushing it down into the dark and the quiet at her center. She took a breath and then another. One by one, she remembered the little rules of her existence - don't admit it, don't acknowledge it. Stay out of sight by becoming useful and mundane. Be safe. Be agreeable. But what worked once did not work now. Her hands shook.

"I've been hiding for a long time," she said quietly, not quite able to hide the bitterness that was clogging her throat. "I'm not quite sure what I am anymore since I came to the Inquisition. But I'm not going to turn into an abomination or summon demons. I just need to know what happened to Hugh."

"He was released to me a day ago," Cullen answered, watching her with a mixture of wariness and confusion. "Not so sick as he might have been, but insisting I tell you, that I not let you ..." he paused and his eyes closed. "He knows."

She felt sick with relief, her lips pressing tight into a line as she resisted the urge to laugh or cry or whatever it was her traitorous body would do. With her luck, it would be magical and loud. So she simply pressed her hand against her lips and felt the tears falling down her face.

"You know I have to tell them," he said quietly, referring to the Inquisitor and her counselors.

She nodded. This was the inevitable end.

"I'll take you to where he is resting. Stay there till I've spoken to the Inquisitor."

* * *

Thick dark lashes against too-pale but still tan skin, a mobile mouth relaxed in sleep beneath a straight Ferelden nose, dark hair that curled against a lightly lined brow … Melori sat at the end of Hugh's bed and watched him sleep, cataloging all the little things she wanted to remember. Just in case. She resisted the urge to lie down with him, to curl up at his back and sleep for a while. A heaviness had descended upon her as she'd followed Cullen through Skyhold to the room where Hugh was resting. All the things she'd been carrying for so long were threatening to slide out of control into the Abyss and she had no way to catch hold of them again.

She wiped at her eyes with her sleeve, wishing she'd paused to grab cleaner clothes. Too late now.

"Melori," he said, his voice rough with sleep. The smile she found had been crammed somewhere deep down, between a memory of the last time she had seen him and the memory of Caro laughing. He sat up, his tunic rumpled and his hair askew. "You're really here."

"I came back," she answered. "I promised I would."

"I'm not sure you did," He said, looking more closely at her. "You look as though someone has died."

"I'm all right if you are." Melori touched his face with her fingertips, stroking down till he had grabbed her hand and kissed her palm. "What happened? Why did they do this to you?"

"Someone among the Orlesians, possibly in the Chantry, felt that I had gone out of bounds. Apparently, our relationship is inappropriate," He answered. "Barris did not wish to do anything, but there was pressure on him from above. And after Therinfal …"

"They want no hint of impropriety among the Templars," she finished for him.

"Yes, exactly. It wasn't pleasant, but Barris went to Cullen almost immediately and they offered me another option," He lifted his eyes to hers. "It was either that or be sent away from here."

"When the Commander told me what happened to you," she said, glancing away and caught her breath on a laugh. "I think I had it in my head to go yell at the Knight Commander himself."

"I had a feeling you'd want to. I asked Cullen to keep you from doing anything stupid."

"Well, in protecting me from my anger, he learned what I am." She looked down at her betraying hands. "He was very disturbed."

"That means he's telling the Inquisitor, then," Hugh exhaled, sitting up more fully and climbing across the bed to pull her into his arms. "I'm sorry, Melori."

"I'm … not," she said, realizing a moment after she'd said it that she meant it. "It was becoming too heavy to bear."

"I have my blade," he said. "Whatever comes, I will not let them harm you."

"After everything you just went through, you would add more to the list?" she shook her head. "No, just …"

There was a loud bang n the hallway outside Hugh's door, and then shouting. Melori's eyes went wide and Hugh climbed slowly out of his bed, reaching for the blade that lay across his armor on the dresser and pulling it free of the sheath. "Stay there," he said, and went to the door.

"Cassandra! You heard what the Inquisitor said!" Cullen's voice was loud enough for them to hear him through the closed door.

"I heard what she said," Cassandra's voice was lower, calmer. Melori found herself fighting a strong urge to hide in the cupboard as she had once done in the abomination infested Circle Tower as a girl. This time hiding wouldn't do any good.

"Cassan …" Cullen's voice was a warning the Seeker ignored. Hugh's door banged open and she stepped inside, eying Hugh standing between Melori and the door with his bare blade, pale, but with a straight back and his guard up. Melori just looked hollow-eyed and drained, waiting for the storm to hit.

The Seeker made a disgusted sound. "Hugh, put your sword away."

"I don't think so," he said, though there was sweat standing out on his brow.

"Hugh," Cassandra stepped up to him, having to tilt her head back to look him in the eye. "I'm not going to harm her." They stared at one another for a long space, and then Hugh stepped back, sword falling to his side. Cullen, standing behind Cassandra at the door, made a relieved sound.

"I am not always ready to murder people who anger me," the Seeker said and put her hand on Hugh's shoulder, steering him back toward the bed. "Though I am angry." Her eyes flicked toward Melori, who managed _not_ to quail, though her stomach did an uneasy flip. "Leliana told me in Haven that you were an apostate."

Melori came to her feet in shock, "You _knew?_"

"I thought it odd that you would want to learn swordplay, but Leliana said to let you do as you wished," Cassandra answered. "She said it was part of your work for her."

"I…" Melori's mind had gone completely blank. She stared at the Seeker and tried to form some kind of coherent thought. "You knew and you still beat the tar out of me every time."

"You might have mentioned that _before_ you stalked down here with murder in your eyes," Cullen said, looking as though he was about to do violence to everyone in the room.

"I wanted to see her face," Cassandra said shortly. "And now I have." She turned on her heel and walked past Cullen out into the hall. "I will be expecting you in the training yard in the morning, Enara. Do not make me wait."

"Yes, Lady Seeker," Melori said, numbly.

* * *

It was early enough that most of the castle was still in bed when Melori dragged herself across the yard to where Cassandra was waiting for them. She was wearing her regular gear and carrying her blade, as ordered. Hugh was behind her, dressed in light leather, but with his blade at his hip – he'd insisted he come with her despite his evident exhaustion. Melori climbed over the fence and dropped to her feet in the sawdust, bowing to the Seeker as she'd been taught.

"You may think I am not angry with you," Cassandra said, tugging on her gauntlets as she walked along the perimeter of the training yard. "You would be wrong. Every opportunity you did not take to tell me the truth wasted a little more of my time. But I promised Leliana that I would not chase you away."

"I …" but Cassandra gave her a sharp look and Melori closed her mouth tightly.

"I am not as angry as I was with Varric," Cassandra said, "But I think it is time to train your properly."

"There is no shame in retreating from a Seeker, you know," Hugh called out from the side of the yard. She saw someone standing next to him out of the corner of her eye, but dared not look away from Cassandra. She'd passed 'nervous' somewhere around three a.m. and was now fully entrenched in 'terrified', anticipating this lesson. The Inquisitor had instructed that she was to remain under Leliana's command and discretion – secret still, but useful. There were concerns, of course, but those were more about her training and control. It was enough to give anyone an ulcer.

"You may use magic, if you wish," Cassandra said as she bowed in return. "I want to see what it does."

"Oh," the elf blinked, drawing her blade. "All right."

It had been some time since she'd been allowed to cast openly, so Melori chose to use the little gestures Dorian had taught her, warding herself and spelling her blade. It helped a great deal, allowing blows that would otherwise have knocked her off her feet to deflect and giving her new opportunities to strike. Still, she was fighting a frighteningly calm, brutally fast Cassandra who could deflect most magics without effort. Melori ended up panting on her back in the sawdust, the Seeker's boot on her stomach and blade at her throat. A fairly nasty cut on her shoulder was oozing blood, and she had a feeling her knee was out of joint.

"The magic helps," the Seeker said, not moving the blade away, "You will speak to Solas and Dorian about acquiring more skill with it."

"Yes, my Lady."

"You will _never_ lie to me again," Cassandra continued. "It is not in the best interest of your continued survival. And I haven't the temperament for it." She then sheathed her blade, removed her boot from Melori's ribs, and stalked off toward the castle.

Melori lay there in the sawdust for a while, watching as the clouds drifted overhead and thanking every god whose name she could recall that she was still alive. Hugh came over, along with Cullen, and gave her a hand up. She winced and yelped when she put pressure on her knee – definitely out of joint.

"You really need to learn to dodge when she kicks," Hugh said.

"Right. And next time I'll just use a nug as a distraction while I give her wedgie, too," Melori muttered, surprising a startled laugh out of Cullen. Her lips curved a little at that. Maybe things weren't be so bad after all …

* * *

.

Note I: _People who know Melori is a mage_:_ Inquisitor, Cassandra, Leliana, Cullen, Solas, Hugh, Cole ... and maybe Vivienne  
_

Note II: _Next excursion – Western Approach! A little more Alistair, some drunken revelry, maybe some kissy face. Who knows! Well, I know. You don't know. That's why I'm the writer and you're the reader. *edges away* Please don't hurt me!_


	18. Chapter 18

Note I: _I try to let myself sleep so that I would be able to write properly and ended up dreaming about Solas and Melori in the Fade. O.o B/c that's normal. Right? *sigh*_

* * *

.

_Let us be grateful to people who make us happy, they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom._  
– Marcel Proust

.

* * *

The blue-black waters of the Waking Sea swelled and curled beneath the prow of The Bard's Kiss, an Antivan warship Josephine had _acquired _in her usual way to carry the Inquisition forces to the Western Approach. There were several troops of soldiers, the Inquisitor's personal party, and several groups of agents and scouts aboard. They were the better part of a week out to sea. It had been a quiet trip, per the Captain, though not everyone on board found the boat so comfortable. The water was choppy and the winds were high, and they'd just managed to keep ahead of the stormy weather behind them.

Melori was watching the water from a safe distance away from the rail, having parked herself near the center of the deck. She wasn't fond of deep water as she'd never really been able to swim, despite growing up on an island in the middle of Lake Calenhad - probably so that the mages weren't tempted to try swimming away, she thought.

"Where are we?" she asked, looking over to where Hugh was standing at the rail, enjoying the wind and the swells. He was feeling better than he had been, his color better and his eyes bright. The sea air seemed to invigorate him as much as it terrified her.

"Somewhere past Val Royeaux," he answered. "While you were napping earlier, we were escorted for a while by one of the Empress's ships, but they eventually turned away. Only another couple of days and we'll be heading south on the Imperial Highway toward the Approach."

"I'm glad," she said, looking out over the tossing waters. "Not really fond of boats…"

"What? You don't like the fresh air?" He asked as he left the rail, catching her when she staggered and slid as one of the larger swells tilted the deck. Melori hadn't found her sea legs since they'd come aboard, and, while she hadn't been sea sick, she'd been less than happy.

"I don't swim well," she said, looking worriedly over the water. "And … and there are _things_ out there. Haven't you ever read Prentiss's _The Sailor's Guide to Natural Sea Life_?"

"I take it you did and it scared you senseless?" Hugh chuckled, tugging her through the door and into the passengers' mess where most of their fellow travelers were gathered. The lamps hanging from the ceiling swayed with the rolling of the boat, causing the shadows to jump and stretch along the hall, but the mess itself had windows along one side to let in the light - or where they portholes? She wasn't sure.

"There are creatures as big as this boat in this area of the water," she said, eyes wide. "_As big as a dragon! _Yes, it scared me senseless. It should scare everybody senseless. They're underneath us, Hugh! Right now!"

"I promise they won't bother us," he assured her. "We're traveling at a fair clip and have the wind at our backs. It would take a lot more effort than we're worth for anything to try to attack us."

"I'm going to remind you of that when a giant tentacle slams us into the water," she muttered, making him laugh as they sat down between Krem and Varric, who patted her shoulder and passed her a flask. She inspected it with a suspicious expression.

"Managed to get hold of some dwarven stuff I thought you might like," Varric said.

"Hey now," Hugh gave the dwarf a look. "What are you up to, Varric?"

"Just doing my duty for the day - can't let the Librarian stay grumpy or we'll _all_ be miserable. She's still going on about mythical sea monsters, isn't she?"

"They're not _mythical_. You'd think none of you had ever laid eyes on a dragon before," Melori said, opening the flask and taking a tentative sniff. "Gah … why do you keep doing this to me?"

"You're meant to drink it, not smell it."

"It's for _safety_, Varric," she glowered, though she tilted it to her lips and took a swig. "Oh … ugh …"

Hugh snatched the flask from her hand and took a drink himself, his eyes widening as it burned its way down. "Maker's … breath … "

Krem was slapping Melori on the back while she coughed. "We have other stuff to drink, you know," he said, sympathetically.

"Liquor's quicker," the elf muttered. "Though … I have to say, that was like drinking lye."

A tankard was pushed into her hand and she drank, Hugh watching her with rounded eyes. "She can't possibly hold it all."

"Oh, you haven't seen anything yet," Varric smirked.

* * *

The storm hit mid-bender. The entire ship shuddered as the wind hit, followed by the booming of thunder and the blinding flash of the lightning. Everything not bolted down began to slide, which, given the state of the party in the mess, caused a great deal of laughter and shouting. They'd been at it for several hours at this point, and Melori was watching with drunken awe while the Inquisitor, who had joined them somewhere in the middle, knocked back a good half of the rot gut in Varric's flask without wincing and launched into a crazed tale involving knickers, a party at an Arl's country house, and a baby druffalo.

"... so he puts the knickers on his _head_ and walks out into the garden like he's the emperor of Orlais," she was saying as the boat tilted. The portholes were shuttered against the wind and rain, but the storm was tossing The Bard's Kiss about on the waves. Melori, who had been sprawled in Hugh's lap, suddenly found herself sliding as the ship listed and she made an unintelligible noise of panic, grabbing hold of the Inquisitor's leg as she slid past, pulling them both into a heap on top of Krem, who made an 'oomph' sound.

"I can't get up," Melori complained, one hand flailing from beneath the Inquisitor. "The world is falling upside down an' I can't ... gah ... breathe."

"_You _ can't breathe?" Kream said, laughing and trying to extricate himself.

"Oh, I think I like it here," their fearless leader said evilly, stretching out.

"Owwwww," Melori whined, pushing at the Inquisitor with both hands. "Offfff, Trevelyan! Human's're heavy."

"NOoooooo," came the drunken response. "You're comfortable!"

"Am not," Melori answered, squirming out from the pile, only to slide back as the floor tilted precariously all over again. "Stupid boat!"

Eventually Krem managed to get the Inquisitor to her feet and back to her seat. Melori staggered out of the mess hall and toward the deck, gripping hold of the rails as she went along. She almost made it out into the rain and flashing lightning, but a staff blocked her path and she found Solas sitting on the stair, his back to the wall, giving her a patient, if impenetrable smile. "It would be irresponsible of me to allow anyone in your state outside. But a storm at sea is the last place _you_ should be, _ma'falon._"

"Hmm. You're usu'lly right," she answered, blinking owlishly as the storm burst into electrical fury above the deck beyond. "I ... "

"No." He reached out a finger and laid it deliberately on the tip of her nose. "Storm mages should be inside on such nights. Back you go."

"Fiiiine," she answered, turning and tottering back the way she'd come, sliding a little and bouncing off the opposite wall before managing to make it back to the mess.

* * *

Melori woke slowly, not quite certain where she was. She was lying atop someone, could feel them breathing steadily beneath her cheek. There was a hand on her shoulder, and another around her waist, but ... it couldn't be the same person. The angle was wrong, and ... neither belonged to Hugh. She stirred and tried to lift her head only to drop back down, groaning very softly. "Oh ... not good." Her head felt like the entire city of Orzammer was hammering away inside of it, and her mouth tasted ... well ... She opened one eye, blinking blearily for a moment before she got a good look around.

The Inquisitor's cabin was actually a very fancy room, she thought irrelevantly as she carefully lifted the arm around her waist and tried to slide out of the bed. But the Inquisitor only held on more tightly and murmured something about 'cozy elflings' and nuzzled up against her back. Melori turned very carefully to see who belonged to the hand on her shoulder and found Cassandra asleep, breathing quietly. The last time she'd been this close to the Seeker, she'd taken a shield to the gut and had nearly passed out.

"This is why we don't get drunk around our superiors," she said under her breath, happy to find she was still at least mostly clothed, as she lifted the Inquisitor's arms from around her waist and carefully ... oh so carefully, crept off the berth and slid down onto the floor, where she paused and pressed her palms to her face. Her head was raging with pain and she wasn't entirely sober yet - could feel the slow burn of the alcohol still in her blood.

"Never again," she muttered, reaching out blindly to make sure she had a grip on the nearest sturdy wooden object and pulled herself to her feet, leaning against the rolling of the ship. Her stomach lurched and she clapped her hands over her mouth, not caring as she raced out of the room that she had no boots, was wearing someone else's shirt, and there was a rip up one side of her breaches. All that mattered was reaching the rail in time. She didn't notice Dorian was even nearby till he'd grabbed her hair and pulled it out of the way, wincing as she emptied her belly.

"You know, usually it's me who's hanging over the railing in the morning," he commented, patting her back comfortingly. "Nothing like a good night of drunken revelry to make a mage regret their birth, hey?"

"_Ir abelas_, Dorian," she whispered. "I don't suppose you have anything ... safe to drink with you?"

"No, but I know where we can find some," he answered, waiting while she slowly straightened and did her best to wipe her mouth. "Come along."

She followed him across the ship, not entirely sure if it was rocking or if it was her head, and down into the mess ... which almost sent her back up onto the deck again. But Solas was there, along with several of the others, and he reached out a hand and tugged her down beside him at the table. She laid her forehead on the smooth wood and groaned. She felt him chuckle and then blessedly cool magic flared over her and everything settled. "_Ma serranas, Solas."_

"I should probably let you suffer," he said observed amiably. "Perhaps you'd learn to avoid the dwarf's enticements."

Dorian slid a metal cup across the table to Melori, taking a seat on the opposite side. "That's the thing about temptation, isn't it? So lovely at first glance, so terrifying afterward"

She took the cup and lifted it to her lips, letting the cold water slide down her throat before she set it down again. "Sometimes I just want to relax with friends," she told the cup, not looking at the other two. "So no promises."

"Well, friend, You will be pleased to know I have arranged a bath for everyone who wants one," Dorian said. "Not warm, sadly, but there will be a tub set up in of the staterooms that we may use." He gave her a little look. "I recommend it."

"Oh, I want one," she assured him. "I feel like I fell into a vat of alcohol."

"Precisely," he sighed.

* * *

"You insisted you couldn't go back outside into the storm," Cassandra explained as they walked through the little merchant town where they had disembarked. "Hugh tried to walk you back, but you started to cry and fuss. So he brought you back. That's when the Inquisitor insisted we have a ... what did you call it?"

"Sleep over, probably," The Inquisitor answered, stooping to check her horse's feet. "I don't really remember what I said."

"I don't remember any of that at all," Melori admitted, leading her mount along behind the two of them. "All I remember is waking up in ... erm ..." she glanced at Cassandra and felt herself blushing. "I wasn't sure what had happened."

"You are very clingy when you're intoxicated," the Seeker said. "Sadly, I could not get Hugh to drink enough. We will have to try this again."

"I was hoping he'd swoop in and try to kiss me," the Inquisitor laughed. "Alas, he did not."

"You kissed Melori instead," said Cassandra, amused. "You were insisting she was the coziest elf and then you kissed her."

"Uhh ... what?" If her face had been red before, it was scarlet now. "I ... the Hera ... what?"

"I ... oh," the Inquisitor's face was almost as red as Melori's.

"Varric lost five gold on that bet," Cassandra's amusement grew into a grin.

"Did ... ahh ... did Hugh see that?" Melori asked weakly.

"Who do you think won the gold?" Cassandra laughed.

* * *

They walked and rode along the Imperial Highway for many long miles. Along the way, Melori studied the Grey Warden papers or worked on other issues for Leliana, and when they stopped at night, she worked with Dorian and Solas. Initially, Dorian had intended to teach her the skills common to a Knight Enchanter like Vivienne, but Solas suggested they go deeper.

_"D__irth'ena enansal_," he said, leaning on his staff, eyes distant. "A very similar path to that of the knight enchanters, but with certain, subtle differences. You have heard the term before?"

"Yes, in a few books," she nodded, pacing a little. "They were also called arcane warriors, were they not? I remember that they were spoken of poorly by many mages."

"Only because their focus differed," he replied. "The first step is to learn to divert your power to support your body. As you are already accustomed to fighting without magic, this will serve to use that untapped potential and turn it into strength and agility."

That it was difficult was an understatement. Melori practiced and practiced while the other two mages poked and prodded at her, giving suggestions and encouraging her to try harder. To focus deeper. They were nearly to the Approach when she managed to maintain her focus without really thinking about it. It would take more training, of course, but her first sparring match with Hugh once she'd gained their approval was unlike anything she'd expected. She could move more quickly than she'd ever imagined and her sword felt more like an extension of her arm, both lighter and more mobile.

Of course, there were drawbacks. That first sparring left her dizzy and drained, her knees wobbling with exhaustion and the diluted lyrium potion she drank did less to relieve it than she had expected.

"There is always a cost," Solas said. "When you find your balance, we will move on."

* * *

"It's not the desert till you've got sand in your knickers," said one of the soldiers as the party crested the ridge leading down into the what was properly called the Western Approach. They'd spent the last three days traveling along a dusty half-paved track through rolling, barren hills full of rock and sparse plant-life and were now staring out over an expanse of blowing sand and barren rock, burnt orange by the setting sun. It had grown hotter the closer they'd come to the desert, the dry air and dancing heat waves making it difficult to judge distances as they traveled.

Down the road, in one of the small canyons, they found Scout Harding and her people had set up camp, and the Inquisitor began to issue orders, sending some to the tents and others to the watch. Night was approaching so most everyone would be settling in for the evening, but it was going to be a busy morning. Harding approached Melori and Hugh as they were feeding their horses and handed Melori a small, leather bound packet. "This came for you two days ago from Sister Leliana. I believe it's in regards to a ruin near here."

"Thank you," Melori said, glancing up at Hugh as she broke the seal. "No rest for the wicked, I see." Scanning over the missive, she smiled a little and looked over at him. "It's the Ruin, as Harding suggested. We're to take a look around and see if we can't get inside."

"Why do I get the feeling it only_ sounds_ simple," he answered, smiling.

"One more night and back into the fray," she said quietly, folding the message and tucking it into one of her saddlebags next to the cook fire. Hugh set his saddle next to hers and reached out to draw her close, lifting her chin with a finger.

"Worried?" he asked, kissing her forehead.

"Always," she smiled, leaning into him and wrapping her arms round his waist. "But you're here and I feel better prepared this time."

"I won't let anything happen to you," he promised. He'd been doing so much better since they'd left Skyhold. She knew now that he was taking lyrium, as all Templars did, and that he intended to stop as soon as it was possible. That he would still wish to do so after being denied for several days was astonishing, Melori thought.

"I won't let anything happen to you, either," she added, giving him a look.

From a few tents over someone laughed and Varric yelled, "Just kiss her already!"

"I know where you sleep, dwarf!" Melori turned to yell back.

"OOooh, I'm terrified."

* * *

.

NOTE II: _Western Approach proper and Alistair in the next chapter. :D_

NOTE III: _Mixing a bit of the original Arcane Warrior (DA:O) with the Knight Enchanter Specialization (DA:I), because I like the energy restrictions of the AW, but I think the combat skills of the KE are useful, too. Anyway, that's the plan for Melori. :D_


	19. Chapter 19

"_When it comes to controlling human beings there is no better instrument than lies. Because, you see, humans live by beliefs. And beliefs can be manipulated. The power to manipulate beliefs is the only thing that counts."  
_~ Michael Ende, The Neverending Story

.

* * *

"Is there no end to them?" Melori yelled as yet another Quillback shot toward them across the sands. They were still standing by the corpse of the previous creature, blades dripping with blood and the scent of lightning in the air. She took a breath and followed Hugh forward, darting around the beast and thrusting with her blade. The thing screamed and swiped at her, but Hugh slammed it aside with his shield before it could do any damage. Their companions, an archer named Meredith Wist and a soldier named George Clery, took it down the rest of the way.

"They're everywhere," Meredith agreed, nodding toward the Tevinter ceremonial tower ahead of them. "But we're almost in position."

They'd been assigned to take up a perimeter position outside the Venatori ruins, just in case anything tried to get away. Melori, upon approach, could already taste the copper on her tongue from blood magic, in this case centuries of it, on the air, and felt her stomach going queasy. It was not a scent you could easily forget, even ten years on. "Whatever comes out of there," she said quietly, "It not likely to be pretty or safe."

Hugh glanced back at her, a brow lifting and she mouthed "Blood magic" where only he could see. His jaw tightened and he nodded, shifting his shield on his arm. They could see Hawke and Alistair standing to one side of the entry and the Inquisitor and her group greeting them. Dorian was with her, along with Cassandra and Varric. Solas was, as usual, somewhere nearby, but she hadn't caught sight of him for some time. Thinking of him reminded her to focus, to shift the power always on the edges of her senses toward her body. She felt a little line of static run up her spine and smiled - each time, it was a little easier.

Waiting did not take long once the others disappeared through the gates and Hugh signaled them to move forward, halting several yards out from the entrance. At first, all was quiet, though there was sick sense of wrongness that she couldn't shake. They could see movement in the ceremonial area, but no violence, not yet. Melori shifted her grip on her blade and tried to remember to breathe ... and then power surged at the ancient tower and a blast of green light flared from within.

"Behind us!" Meredith yelled, the archer turning and staggering as a spell bolt took her to one knee. Hugh and Melori raced back the way they had come, the Templar slamming his shield into the sand, a ring of power shuddering out from the impact and stunning the oncoming mages. Melori threw herself at the stunned Venatori, power running down her sword as she brought it up and across, slicing his throat. Clery had the other one, laying about him with great enthusiasm with his mace.

Melori turned her face away from the carnage and froze. A huge creature approached them, half-hidden by the dunes, red spikes of lyrium shoved out of what appeared to be a man's body, the Templar insignia on its chest - as though he had grown into and around the armor itself. She backed up a step and then another as it approached, her sword held horizontally in front of her.

"Maker," Hugh swore, his voice hoarse as he lifted his shield and ran forward. The creature made a strange, screaming sound that hurt the ears, but this time she didn't hesitate. Melori pulled herself together and followed, ducking at the last moment as shards of red lyrium flew off the creature and scattered in all directions. Her heart was in her throat as she slashed at the creature, Hugh's shield slamming into it as he shouted, and arrows battered it back as Meredith loosed from farther away. Clery was not far behind, his mace whirling and his shield high to keep the red lyrium off of him.

It was hard to maneuver in the shifting sand, though that was as true for the creature as it was for everyone else - and he was top-heavy - which was both good and bad. The thing had an arm like a maul and swung it in huge, punishing arcs. Hugh grunted as it impacted his shield, while the others battered away at it. And then it slid down the dune and they slid after it, only to scramble away as it threw that heavy arm crashing into the sand, tossing Clery and Melori away with bruising force. They rolled down the incline and came up at the bottom, dizzy and bruised. Hugh careened shield-first into its back as it turned to look at the two at the bottom of the dune, knocking it back down.

It tried to rise, but two arrows hit the ground to either side of it and detonated, throwing sand and blood and red lyrium everywhere. For a moment the four stood there, breathing hard and staring, waiting for it to rise, but it lay still. Melori marveled for a moment that, for once, she was relatively in one piece.

"What ... was that?" Meredith asked, sliding down the side of the dune for a closer look.

"Red Templar of some kind," Hugh said grimly. "Don't touch the crystals."

"Wasn't plannin' on it, Ser," Clery said, wiping blood off his forehead and spitting out a tooth. "Damn thing hit like a druffalo."

"Word among the scouts has it these are all over Emprise d'Leon," Meredith nodded, looking back up the dune. "I think the fighting's stopped."

* * *

They achieved the top of the dune in time to see the others emerging from the tower, everyone covered in gore and looking, at the very least, winded. Varric was limping. They crossed the sandy plateau, Melori fighting an urge to be sick as the miasma of recent blood magic seemed to reach out from the tower. Bad enough to have been near the red lyrium alone.

"Bad?" asked Hugh.

"Worse," said Cassandra, looking them up and down. "You?"

He shrugged, "Just some Venatori and a maddened Red Templar with an arm like one of Bull's mauls."

"The Wardens were using blood magic," The Inquisitor said, pinching the bridge of her nose. She looked pale, drawn, and tired. "The mages are using the warriors as blood sources to summon demons to which the mages bound themselves. All under the command of someone named Erimond ... a Tevinter magister. We killed the abominations, but he escaped."

"That's the name in the cipher that kept coming up, but I didn't understand it at the time," Melori said, eyes widening.

"They'll have gone to Adamant," Alistair said. "A dwarven built stronghold on the very edge of the Abyss. It will take an army to breach it's defenses, but that is where we'll find the Orlesian Wardens and put a stop to this madness."

"We need to secure the Approach and, after, I will have to return to Skyhold to move our troops this way. Josephine has a plan for us to obtain the cooperation of the Empress," The Inquisitor said, her expression flinty. "First, Griffon Wing Keep to solidify the front on this end." Her eyes shifted to Hugh and Melori, "Find out what the Venatori want in the ruins near here. I don't want any surprises hitting us from behind."

* * *

They made it back to camp in time to grab food and to bandage anything that could be bandaged - after the Red Templar fight, they were mostly just badly bruised and shaken - which was lucky. By rights, it could have gone far worse. It was late in the day, and the assault on Griffon Wing Keep would not happen till the morning, but it was a quiet, grim group who gathered round the fires that night, eating and speaking quietly, bundled into cloaks against the desert chill.

"Erimond of Vyrantium," Dorian said. "Not a major name, by any means, and nothing like House Pavus, but a name I know, nonetheless."

"He's closely trusted by Warden Commander Clarel," Melori said from where she was bent over the cipher, squinting in the dying light. "Now that I know that name this is all clear. The mages are completely bent to his will, and any of the others who have doubt die. Or give in." She looked across the fire to Alistair. "If you had not left when you did ..."

"Something to be grateful for, isn't it?" he nodded. "They're beyond desperate at this point."

"So much lost," she murmured sadly, gathering the papers up and climbing stiffly to her feet, she was going to need a healing potion to get rid of the bruises. "I'm going to take these back to my tent." Hugh was already there, having said he wanted to rest and think on everything. She walked along the rocky, sandy path, her heart heavy in her chest. The world seemed balanced on the edge of the precipice

"_Lethallan," _Solas said, his hand catching hers as she passed between the tents. "You are troubled."

"Have you heard what happened at the tower?" She asked, hugging the papers to her chest. "I don't understand how they could do what they did. The Grey Wardens already give up so much for the fight against the Blight, but this? This is insane."

"They intend to kill the old gods," he said, his tone sharp. "A greater folly I have not heard."

"Even if it stops the Blights?" She asked, frowning.

"They do not know that it will," he answered. "How can they guarantee the outcome when they attempt to pre-empt what they cannot truly know the cause?"

"You seem to have some knowledge that they do not," Melori said, looking up at him with a small smile. "You always do know more than anyone else."

"I simply observe the world around me," he replied. "Both in and out of the Fade. Tell me, have you attempted to visit the Fade as I suggested?"

"I've hardly had time," She sighed gustily. "So far, everywhere I've been has tried to kill me in one way or another. It's difficult to sleep under those circumstances."

He laughed and she felt a little lighter hearted, "_Ma Serranas_, Solas. Talking to you often makes me feel better."

"We walk a hard road, _ma'falon_. But you have kept an open mind where others do not," He gave her a slight bow. "Sleep well, then."

* * *

Dreams came while she lay in Hugh's arms, his lips against her hair and his arms around her waist. She was walking through the Circle Tower, her sword dragging along behind her along the stone floors, the hallways seeming endless as she passed the various doors. Voices called to her, hissing and groaning as claws scratched against metal shod wood. Melori tried not to listen, to keep going forward. Safety lay ahead, she told herself. If she could just get to the end of the hall she would find the Senior Enchanters with their wards.

But there was no end to it. She walked and walked, but the circle had no outlet. She either tried the doors or never escaped. Her breath froze in her chest, her heart began to pound, and she chose the next one she came to ... and the room beyond seemed all right, neat as a pin with her books stacked next to her bed. It was her room in Skyhold, the fire burning cheerily in the grate. Her shoulders sagged and she walked over to the window. Dirty, greenish light greeted her eyes, the black city hovering in the distance. Something shivered along her spine and she turned, drawing her blade up ... but it was only the Inquisitor, peering into her room with a smile.

"I thought I'd say hello," the human said, walking inside. "All the madness keeps me from making friends properly."

"You have lots of friends," Melori said, her brows drawing down in confusion. "I've never seen someone with so many."

"But no one who truly knows me. I thought, since we had such fun on the journey, that you would want to talk with me a while." The Inquisitor's dark-red eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled. "Would you like to be my friend, Melori?"

"You're not her," Melori answered, holding her blade between herself and the doppelganger. "I don't have to talk to you."

"Mmm, so quick you are," the demon murmured, sidling across the room toward the mage, her body shifting as she moved. Her features changed, became more masculine and her skin darkened. A face Melori had not seen for five years leaned close to hers and Octavio Eliseus was whispering her name, his dark eyes filled with longing, his voice husky in a way she had almost forgotten. "I loved you, Melori. Despite my father's words, despite everything. Why did you abandon me to my brothers? Why did you let them do what they did?"

"But ..." her voice cracked and she shied away, the room shifting as she moved, "They tried to kill me. Your father ... all of them. I was just a slave to them."

"But not to me," He pressed her against the wall, her blade trapped between them. "You never really loved me at all, did you, Melori?"

"I know ... I know you're not him," she said, her voice strangled. "This is just the madness from those horrible days in Tevinter. He is dead and you will not have me through him."

"A pity," it pressed it's lips against her neck, shifting into another shape, familiar and warm. Behind him the room the light turned scarlet as red lyrium appeared in the corners, and when Hugh looked at her, his eyes gleamed with sinuous red lights. "Is this what you want?" He said as his body began to change, the crystals growing along his arms. She shoved him away as hard as she could, lifting her blade and striking ...

"Melori! Melori!" Hugh was shaking her, calling her name with a desperate hitch to his voice. She heard him, distantly, and jerked away, her hand clapped over her mouth, her eyes wide and staring. He approached her with the caution of someone who has woken a mage from a nightmare in the past. "You're awake now. It's just me."

"Hugh ..." she closed her eyes, trying to forget the images of him burned into her mind.

"Everything all right in there?" Alistair, his voice still rough with sleep, asked at the front of their tent. "Because that sounded less than delightful."

"A nightmare," Hugh answered, "Nothing more." Though the shadows in his eyes spoke of other worries, things Templars fear. Melori could see him imagining what would happen if she had come back an abomination in his arms. Her eyes shut tightly. "I'm fine ... just terrified. As always." _Not a demon. I'm not going to suddenly shift into something that could kill everyone... _her stomach clenched and she focused on breathing slowly. She could hear as Alistair walked away, telling everyone to go back to sleep.

Hugh moved closer, pulling her into his lap and held her tightly, laying kisses along her brow and then her mouth. "You started to scream my name, and not in a good way," he murmured.

"Don't..." she shook her head, "Don't ask what I saw. I ... I want to forget. It wasn't real."

* * *

She hadn't gone back to sleep that night, so the next morning before first light she brought fresh water from the nearby spring and cooked breakfast while she read through a book someone had found in one of the mines. A book about dragon physiognomy wasn't exactly exhilarating reading, but it kept her mind off the vision of Hugh with red lyrium sprouting from his back and his eyes gleaming like ... she put the book down.

"Surana does that, too," Alistair said, taking a seat next to the fire and holding out a bowl for the porridge. She obliged and filled it for him, pushing the bag with extra spices and honey toward him with her boot.

"What does she do?" Melori asked.

"Grey Wardens are prone to nightmares," he answered. "Horrible things that only become worse when darkspawn are near, and even worse during the Blight. Whenever she has one, she just gets up and makes breakfast or cleans something."

"It's better than lying there staring at the tent roof," she said. "I think I scared Hugh out of his mind, though. Not too long ago, he was a Templar at the Kirkwall Circle. I can't imagine how he feels now, thinking of me dreaming about demons."

"Scared to death, most likely," the Warden smiled. "But for you, not for himself. That's how it is once you ... well, you know."

They ate together in silence for a few minutes, watching the sky as it began to lighten, the stars disappearing one by one overhead. "You'll get back to her soon."

"I hope so," he smiled, glancing at Melori. "This is the last time we'll be apart, if I have my way about it."

Hugh came out of the tent a little later and sat down behind her, pulling her against his chest. She leaned back and smiled up at him. "You all right?"

He kissed her on the forehead. "I'm fine. You?"

"Better now."

.

* * *

Note: _On Red Templars: per the wiki, if you help the Templars and recruit them, Venatori attack Haven, etc. becoming the main enemy, and it says that Red Templars are no longer a threat / stop using the Red Lyrium, except you often run into them along with the Venatori in different areas of the game. Hence the Red Templar in this chapter. :D_


	20. Chapter 20

NOTE: _playing with the order of things a bit. :D_

* * *

_._

_I stood outside when the roof gave in  
You called from the wreckage you were lying in  
You were out of reach and were out of time  
But I took it all and towed that line  
You held my hand and pulled me down with you_

~ Les Friction, _Torture_

.

* * *

"Three ahead," Meredith said softly, creeping back to the others to where they were waited outside the Still Ruin. "One big guy with a zweihander and a couple of mages. No one else at the entrance. From what they said? We're going to need the Inquisitor here before this is done - they keep saying something about the rift inside the ruins being 'frozen'."

"That's ... odd," Melori commented. "But we should be able to get inside to look around, at least. If there are only three."

"We can try," Hugh agreed.

"There are others inside, but not many. One of the mages was complaining that they'd not been given enough people, though ... it sounded like someone important might be inside." Meredith wrinkled her nose, "Didn't like the sound of that. Important people from Tevinter tend to be mages."

"True, but we've got to see what they're after so the Inquisitor can decide what to do about it," Melori said. "We'll just have to go quick and quiet, right?"

"Right," Clery answered, nodding. "The scouts know to call for help if they see the blue flares. Harding gave me a couple for each of us. Now that the Inquisitor has the Keep, we'll get backup if we ask for it."

"Good, okay," Melori waited till everyone had stowed their flares and then looked to Hugh. "After you, Ser Knight."

* * *

Using a blade on a magical barrier was difficult to explain, but Meredith and Clery seemed to accept Hugh's explanation that the blade was runed and spelled, though he had trouble keeping a straight face about it. Neither really cared, most likely, as long as they could get inside without too much trouble. The three Venatori beyond the barrier at the door to the Ruin went down quickly, not suspecting they were under attack until the Templar knocked them into the walls with burst of white light. What followed was messy, but quickly done and soon they were had levered the door open and slipped inside.

Guards immediately inside the entrance met them with bared steel, though Meredith's quick thinking took two of them down, arrow shafts embedded in their throats. The other two sprang forward and Hugh met them with his shield and blade, Clery and Melori wading in after he stunned one with a shield to the face and spit the other on his balde. It was brief and brutal, and, they hoped, not too loud.

"Creator save us," Melori whispered as she wiped her blade clean on one of the dead men's trousers, her eyes flicking around the room. "What ... is this?"

Everything in the Still Ruin seemed caught in a moment in time. A rift stood out dead center in the room, and scattered all around it were demons of various kinds. Frozen Mages and armored men were locked in fighting poses with many of them. Overhead, it appeared that the roof was caving in, blocks halted in midair "This," Melori said as she looked upward, "Is beyond odd."

"Should we call for the Inquisitor, given the Rift here?" Clery asked. "We're still at the door, I can tell the scouts to send a message."

"Probably ought to," Hugh nodded. "Whatever is holding this all in place could give at any moment. If that rift opens, we're not prepared to fight it."

So they waited, Melori going around the room with her notebook and sketching designs and making notes, one ear listening for any sign of other visitors. Since her dream the night before, she'd had time to calm down, to focus. Hugh was watching her carefully, however. She could feel his eyes on her as she moved from space to space, and found it comforting.

"This would have taken an immense amount of power," she said, her nose wrinkling as she looked further into the building. "And likely a lot of murdered slaves. Typical."

She walked into the middle of the room, circling the trapped rift and wondering how on earth anyone had managed to freeze such a thing. She sketched quickly, reaching out tentatively with her own magic, gently, gently ... but it nothing she did affected it. While it was physically _present_, and both powerful and strange - a wrongness in the world on the brink of eruption, it was somehow locked out of time. Flipping another page, Melori began to sketch and write, missing Caro's skill with images as her pencil flew over the page. Hugh paced along behind her, not quite willing to cross so near to the rift, and Meredith crouched at the entrance, waiting for Clery to return.

A sound of something moving further in the ruins echoed and they all startled, turning. Melori shoved her journal back into her belt and darted away from the Rift to Hugh's side, the two of them ducking behind a pillar. But whatever it was did not come closer. Clery found them there, his own footsteps light on the tiles.

"Message sent, though we can't be sure how long it will take her," he said softly. "Further in?"

Hugh nodded and they moved on. Some of the doors they encountered were locked, but Meredith took care of those while the other waited, ringed around her. Armor or weapons, magical objects - all were left for the Inquisitor, but the books were collected into a bag, the remnants of information tucked into Melori's journal or written swiftly down. She noted the layout of the building, the indications of blood magery in the areas beneath the walkways, and the fact that the original inhabitants had been experimenting on something dangerous, volatile - they'd wanted to tap directly into the Fade, to siphon it's power for their own use.

"Right, well," she muttered to herself. "They managed _something_. That rift in the entry isn't from the Breach, but what's stopping it?"

"Melori?" Hugh said, watching her from the door.

"Nothing, it's just ... for once, I'm with Varric. How does he write about this? I can barely wrap my head around it."

He smiled, shaking his head, "It's that strange?"

"They were playing with forces they couldn't contain," she answered. "Oh no! We caused the Black City and the Blights! We're just going to keep nudging things we have no business nudging. Nevermind us."

* * *

They heard voices in one of the side rooms, so they headed through the large double doors at the center rear of the building instead. More frozen demons and Tevinter mages were arrayed around the courtyard. They edged around them, crossing into the sandy space and heading up to the gate at the back. It was sealed by magic, she could feel it beneath her fingers when she touched the metal. "There's got to be a way to get inside," Melori muttered, looking around.

"Do we have time for this?" Hugh asked, "They may come this way at any moment."

"The reason we're here is behind this gate," she answered. "We need to find out what it is, at the least."

Clery took watch by the gate, crouching to the side and ready to give the warning if any of the enemy wandered too near. Meredith hid behind one of the broken pieces of wall on the stair, and Hugh followed Melori as she ran from room to room. She found the first piece in one of the side rooms, sitting on a desk and gleaming with wisps of a spell. It whispered and hissed with magical energy, making her shiver as she picked it up. She spun on her heel, looking at Hugh, "This is what we need. There should be more nearby ... similar to this one."

They'd passed other peices, unknowingly, having not thought to look at the Mages locked in eternal battle with the Fade Demons. Meredith found one near her hiding place, just lying in the sand where someone must have dropped it a very long time ago. The others were more difficult, but the spell came together once they had them all and stood in front of the locked gate. Power ran along channels in the door and the entire structure lifted into the walls, revealing a dark, room beyond. They entered and Clery put his back to the inside of the door, watching through the courtyard, while the others stared at the staff standing at the center of a dais at the back of the room, a noxious sphere of blood magic turning above it in a sickening, dizzying whirl of power.

"Th-that's definitely it," Melori said, trying not to look as green as she felt. A body lay across the foot of the platform into which the staff stood, dried blood splattered around him. It had been his blood that fueled the spell, drawn by his own hand from the looks of it. She knelt and carefully drew a scroll from the man's hand, frozen in the moment of his dying so that he had never decayed. "They did open the rift in the entry. And he died to keep it from spreading or opening further."

"No wonder Corypheus wants this thing," Hugh said, looking as uncomfortable as she felt.

"We have a problem," Clery said form the doors. "Venatori approaching and one of them's the important one, I think."

"If we remove this," Melori said, nodding to the staff. "I think the spell will stop and time will resume for the demons and mages in battle everywhere. That could distract them ... "

"It could also rip open the rift and send us all hurtling into Maker knows what," Hugh said, giving her a look.

"Well, we'll have to open it anyway so that the Inquisitor can seal the rift in the front room, and she's on her way." Melori looked back at the staff, "Believe me, I don't _want_ to touch this thing."

"Please decide quick," Clery said. "They're across from us now. Haven't noticed us yet, though."

"Do it," Hugh told her, shifting his shield on his arm and turning to face the door. Melori gritted her teeth, bent her head to the side, and grabbed hold of the staff, lifting it from its base.

* * *

The explosion of power as the sphere released its energy knocked Melori to the floor, the staff gripped tight in her hand. Half the ceiling fell or continued to fall from where it had been frozen, one large chunk missing her head by a breath. Something clicked and muttered just outside the door and Meredith began to loose her arrows at the demon. Shouting could be heard in the courtyard, along with the eruptive force of powerful spells. Hugh dragged her to her feet as the demon died, and they ran out into the light to see the Tevinter magister and the other Venatori battling the demons to the right of the doors. Beyond, they could hear the crackling energy of the Rift.

"Hurry," Hugh yelled, gripping his sword and starting forward, intent on running past the Venatori and toward the mass of demons beyond. "Stay with me!"

Spell fire struck the doors ahead of them and they ran into one another as they four skidded inelegantly to a halt. Melori twisted around, staff in hand, fear racing and she felt herself shifting stances, her eyes finding the Venatori magister standing as his men killed the last of the courtyard demons, his eyes on them, fire dripping off his hands like blood. Hugh moved forward, shield lifting, and she heard him as he passed, the Chant of Light falling from his lips, power beginning to well, and her heart lifted. Demons behind them and Venatori before them ... it was not a fight they could win without help. She knelt, laid the staff on the ground, and drew her sword, energy flickering down the blade. They would have to try anyway.

_"Maker, my enemies are abundant.  
Many are those who rise up against me.  
But my faith sustains me; I shall not fear the legion,  
Should they set themselves against me..."_

"Watch the ox with the great sword!" Clery called out, and Melori saw a flicker of blue smoke rising into the air when Meredith tossed one of their lit emergency flares into the sand before nocking an arrow and letting it loose into the enemy gathered below.

The Fade, broken and tattered here, bled power and Melori used it, pulling her shields tight around her before flinging herself into the fray. Hugh shouted and the magister staggered, interrupting the sickly red miasma rolling out from around the man's feet. But she did not have time to watch what the magister was doing. Melori turned as the brute with the great sword came at her, the metal a glittering arc in the air. She lifted her hands and summoned power, and a bombardment of energy flew from her hands in a wave of shock and force, staggering him back and away from her.

She heard Clery curse next to her, surprised, and Meredith's arrow took out the thief to Melori's right. He gave a startled gasp and collapsed, choking on his own blood.

_"Maker, though the darkness comes upon me,  
I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm.  
I shall endure... "_

Hugh's voice rose, the Chant lifting them along with it. Clery took a blow to the hip from a flanking blade and went down on one knee, gasping. Melori turned, power flowing as she threaded power into her blade, lightning hitting the ground in a circle around her, and several of the Venatori staggered, the wounded falling. But there were more than they had anticipated, and two of them were heavily armored, one with a polearm. Clery and Melori stood back to back, moving toward Hugh together.

_"Though all before me is shadow,  
Yet shall the Maker be my guide._

Hugh lifted his sword, but before he could summon his power ... they all staggered, gasping in sudden, unbelievable pain, twitching and jerking as the magister laughed. He, too, was chanting, though it was _not_ the Chant of Light. His words were wrong, his eyes gleaming with reddish light, and the shadows beneath him seemed to twist and curl. As he moved forward, holding them with the power of his blood magic, the armored Venatori closed on them.

"I think that will be all from you," the magister said, walking toward Hugh, his men flanking the party. The only way out was up the stairs and toward the demons. Hugh stepped backward, holding blade and shield up, deliberately placing himself between the enemy and the others. He had blood sliding down from his nose and his gait was unsteady, having taken the brunt of the magister's magical attack, but none of them were doing well, sickened and weakened from whatever the mage had cast.

One of Meredith's arrows thudded against the mage's shields, falling uselessly to the ground, and she cursed, trying to nock another, but her fingers were fumbling. The magister watched the arrow fall, then canted his head to the side, a slow, sick smile curling his mouth. Melori could feel him twisting the veil, could feel the way his energy flexed - he was using the power from the rift, too, on top of everything else. His gaze left them, found the archer, who was sighting along her arrow, and he made a small gesture with his hand. Meredith jerked and then screamed, her bow falling from her hands as she spasmed and fell down the stair, her eyes staring sightlessly.

"Now now," the mage said, backing up onto the steps, "I hear your friends in the hall. I wonder what they'll think when they find you dead? Is it worth the risk?"

Hugh was quoting the Chant again, holding his shield high as he backed slowly up the stairs, Melori on his heels, paused only to grab the staff from the top of the stair and tried not to stare at Meredith's still body. Clery was limping and hissing with pain. In the hall beyond they could hear shouting, bursts of magic crashing into stone, and feel the shock of it beneath their feet. Their friends were nearby, fighting to break the rift. So close ...

"Take the Templar down," The magister said, setting his staff against the ground. "We have the other way out, and I do not wish for these to follow us."

The two armored men surged forward metal biting against metal as the two groups converged. That was her only true power against a man in full armor, to bring her magic to bear, using staff instead of sword and managing to knock them back. But neither Hugh nor Clery were holding their own well and they found themselves fight on the edge of the rail over one of the lower floors. It didn't help that the magister kept sending surges of fear and terror at them, boiling across the floor in black waves. Hugh's chant was fumbling, and Melori saw one of the warriors strike forward, knocking Clery over the ledge into space behind them with a cry.

The other slammed his pole arm into Hugh's side, the sound of armor splitting beneath the blade making a sickening sound. Hugh gave a gasp and fell to his knees, carrying the polearm with him as he fell. It had punctured through his side and out the back, and Melori stared in horror as his sword clattered to the ground and skidded across the tiles. Everything seemed to slow down in that moment and she turned, feeling the Rift surge behind her as the Inquisitor began her task.

Somewhere in the distance she heard someone shouting her name, but she had gone numb. She stepped forward toward the warrior and the magister, and into that heart beat of silence between the first pop of the closing rift and the last, she reached for all the power she could handle and slammed the staff into the ground.


	21. Chapter 21

NOTE: _ THings go a bit torture centric about mid-way. Please beware and skip that section if you'd like to avoid such things. Nothing NSFW._

* * *

.

_Oh, what a cold, dark world it is to walk through  
Alone with a fear-filled head  
Thinking of losing you is a haunted song  
And a dread much worse than the fear of death  
_~ Flyleaf, _Set Me on Fire_

_._

* * *

Light and pain and... her head fragmented ... she was coming apart. The seams were popping, she was unraveling. Flashes of memory and the Fade and the Dark City loomed and then slipped away, and then she was hurled into in to the open air and struck a dune, sliding and slipping as the sand gave way beneath her, rolling to a dead stop against a rock with all the air struck from her body. Melori laid there for a long time, unable to move, eyes closed. Her head pounded with an intensity that made even the slightest attempt frightening.

Eventually the quiet got to her. She could hear nothing but wind and sand and it was _cold. _It should not have been cold in the middle of the day in the Western Approach. It was too hot there and it smelled of sulfur and rot, and now it didn't. Melori remembered, vaguely, slamming the staff into the floor ... remembered Hugh lying across from her, blood pooling beneath him ... and sat up abruptly, staring around and trying to orient herself, but nothing was right ... nothing was ... it was night. How had it become night?

There was a stillness to the area that didn't _feel _like the Approach, which always seemed full of the distant hiss of darkspawn and other creatures. And this place smelled of sand and the distant scent of something soft and perfumed, like blossoms on the air. Melori pushed herself to her feet, turning slowly around as she stared upward at a darkened sky. The stars winked overhead, but they weren't quite in the correct alignment, she thought, swallowing bile.

"If ... if Satinalis is there," she murmured, staring upward, "Kios should be ... there. But ... Oh. Oh shit."

This was not the Western Approach, though she wasn't sure she remembered enough astronomy to rightly guess _where_ she was. Only that it was enough of a shift to not be where she ought to be. It was still the desert, she thought, looking around. At the top of the dune she saw the staff from the Still Ruin and began to climb back up. Perhaps she could get a better view, find her way to someone who didn't want to kill her. Or maybe she'd find she was unconscious and this was the fade ... except, it wasn't. She knew it and the lack of the Black City looming overhead proved it.

The top of the dune revealed more desert. Long, undulating stretches of sand and rock interrupted now and then by stacked tables of massive stone. There were lights in the distance, flickering and wavering, almost as remote as the stars beyond them. Melori picked up the staff, dismayed to find it broken, the top shattered and burnt. Her sword, on the other hand, was halfway down the next dune and in fairly good shape. Retrieving it, she began to walk, using the remnants of the staff as a walking stick. Perhaps there were people near those distant lights, and, given that she had no water, no idea where she was, and no hope of getting home, she could think of no better plan.

As she walked, Melori tried not to think of Hugh, not to imagine whether he was still alive or if the Venatori mage had killed him. That she'd killed the Venatori magister, she had no doubt. The way her magic had grabbed hold of him as the Inquisitor pulled power form their connection back into the rift was etched into her mind. She'd felt him die. What had happened afterward was a jumbled and confusing blur, too chaotic to be understood.

Her legs strained with each step through the heavy sand, her body aching with the hurts she'd received during the fighting and from the magister's blood magic. She drank a portion of one of her healing draughts, sighing with relief as the warmth of it pooled in her belly and spread outward along her limbs. If she had to, she could drink a lyrium potion in order to summon ice for water. If that worked, she wasn't sure it would. This was the first time she'd ever felt drained to the point of weakness, her reserves exhausted to the point that even thinking about casting hurt viciously.

"You don't know where I am, do you?" she said to one of the strange looking halla that had appeared now and then along her path. The creature stared at her for a long moment, then followed along behind her, dipping its uncarved horns and snorting as they walked. She blinked at it for a moment, "I ... all right."

Melori sat down in the sand now and then to rest, staring out at the silhouetted monuments, the distances feeling more and more immense the longer she walked. She'd drink a little of her healing draught, then put it away, climbing to her feet and moving on a little further. The main goal, she thought, was to find shelter. The warmth of the sand beneath her feet and the barrenness of the landscape spoke to the heat during the day, and she did not want to be out in it, unprotected.

"Surely there is someone out there," she muttered. "Who's lighting all those fires, if not?"

The halla snorted and stared off into the distance.

Eventually they came to a dip in the dunes that lead down into a small grove of trees. Someone had once camped here, she saw, noting the abandoned fire pit. She glanced at the halla, who nibbled on the sparse plant life and flicked its ears. "I guess I should build a shelter? Or will the trees be enough, do you think?" Wilderness survival was one thing in a forest, but the desert presented other problems; water, food, and shelter were all more difficult, and she was not an expert. Melori opted to light the campfire using some of the dried wood that had fallen in the grove. It smelled fragrant, like flowers, as it burnt and she dozed fitfully, waking up with a start whenever she remembered Hugh.

"He can't be dead," she told herself, huddled in the shelter of the trees and scrubbing at her eyes with her sleeve. "It was bad, but ... we've all be hurt before. He can't be."

* * *

For most of the day, the grove was in the shadow of the Dune, and Melori slept poorly, jerking awake in fits and starts, the Halla lay nearby in the shade and watched her whenever she awoke. She was grateful it was there, realizing that she'd never been completely alone before - not in her days in the Circle, not when she'd worked with Genitivi or in Tevinter, not when she'd worked at the Archive, and not at all since joining the Inquisition. Always, wherever she went, there were people with her ... until now. She'd taken for granted the comfort they'd represented, the knowledge that she was safe within the crowd - safer with her friends.

"_Ma serranas_," She told the halla while she chewed on elfroot that she'd found beneath the trees in a spindly bunch. It tasted awful, but it was edible. "Did _Ghilan'nain_ send you to me, I wonder? My mother would likely say so. If you were a golden halla, especially so."

The halla nosed the sand a bit, staring at the elf with large eyes. "I don't know how to get home," Melori explained, closing her eyes. "E_mma vir'din. _I have lost the way ... if I ever had it."

Sleep found her beneath the boughs of the twisting, fragrant trees, the broken staff in her lap, her blade beneath her hand. She wandered dark roads in the Fade, lost among its twisting pathways. There was no patience in her for demonic trickery, no pausing to question the right or left path. When she came upon a dragon blocking the pathway ahead, she shouted at it in elven, demanding that it move, that it let her through. It lifted its sinuous neck and gazed down at her with luminescent golden eyes.

"You cannot get there from here, child," she heard, though she did not see it speak.

"But I don't know the way ... I've never been to this place before."

"And so you yell at a dragon? That is either brave or mad. Still ... ," The creature answered, laying it's large head on the ground, it's eyes drifting shut. "Follow the halla, little elf. Isn't that what your kind do?"

Melori woke with a start, her head snapping up and her breathing labored, as though she'd run a long way. The halla was grazing a few feet away, the sun beginning to drop below the horizon. The heat had abated and the wind was picking up. She felt her stomach growling and sighed, walking around the grove until she found more elfroot. The halla chewed it's meal, watching her with placid brown eyes, and Melori chewed her own meal, wondering if she looked as worn out as she felt. She thought about the dragon in her dream and the _vallaslin_ on her face.

"You know the way to the safe places, don't you?" she said to the halla, standing up straighter. "I suppose if you go right instead of left, that's what I'll do, too."

* * *

So she spent the next few hours following the halla up and down the dunes. It seemed like madness, pausing to wait while the creature grazed, then walking in slow patterns over many miles. She felt delirious, empty. The healing potions not able to do quite enough and her magic a distant, painful thing. She thought of lying in the sand, drying up, blowing away. She thought of the Inquisition and longed for Varric's acidic dwarven swill. She prayed to Mythal, mumbling as she staggered through the deep sand, and very nearly slid over the edge of a cliff into a deep, dark canyon below. The halla stood on the ledge, tail fluttering as it stared at her, still chewing, as Hallas do.

"You might have warned me," Melori said, gathering her tattered shreds of dignity around her and standing up. She could smell water down there, along with green and growing things, so began to look for a way down, walking along the edge of the canyon. She noticed as she walked that the canyon floor was slanting upward and hurried forward, not noticing when the halla fell behind.

Magic hit her in the side, throwing her across the sand. Melori groaned and tried to rise, taken completely off guard, but there was a shout and another spell, this one paralyzing her with magic and she could not move, though she tried and got no response from her limbs.

"_Venhedis_!" Someone swore and she was rolled over onto her back, a darkly tanned face looked down at her with a frown. He removed her sword and the remnants of her staff, then patted around, looking for other weaponry. "It is an elf, my Lord!"

"Bring it here, then," came the drawling reply. "I was afraid we were going to have to send out for more and here one comes wandering into camp."

Tossed unceremoniously over the man's shoulder, Melori was taken into a circle of tents and dropped onto the ground at the feet of a man wearing long, sweeping robes with a staff in one hand and a cup of some liquid in the other. In the half-light, his face was in shadow, but he was well-built and tall - intimidating, she thought. "Hm," he said, walking around her, nudging her sharply with his foot, though she was unable to respond due to the paralysis. "Interesting. Quality armor for a wanderer of the wastes."

"Think it's one of them?" the other man asked, leaning on his staff. Did he mean the Inquisition? Her fingers curled in the sand and she realized the paralysis was wearing off and lay still.

"It could be," the lord said, turning to set his cup on a nearby table. Crouching down beside her, he reached out and grabbed her chin, forcing her face up into the light of the flickering torches, studying her. "Dalish, with those markings. The blade is finely crafted, though the staff ... well, you must have taken that off a dead mage. One of my colleagues by the construction of it, so not a bad fighter."

"I... I'm a librarian," she said, feeling as her legs loosened from the spell.

"Are you? What an odd place to find a librarian," he smiled, which reminded her of Dorian, though there was none of the humor in this man's gaze. "Here to explore the old ruins, hmm?"

"That's none of your business," she said, stalling.

"I suppose you have a name?"

Her lips tightened.

"I see," he stood and nodded to the first man, the one who had carried her over. "Put her in the usual place, and make sure it's secure."

"Yes, my Lord."

* * *

She was chained to the center pole in a broad, well appointed tent, unable to move freely and with very little give in the chain. After two hours, she was stiff and aching, longing for something to drink. Melori listened as the man moved about the tent, his steps soft over the rugs scattered across the sand as he looked through the maps stacked on his desk and refilled his cup with what appeared to be wine. She watched him drink, longing for water or wine or anything _wet_ to slake her thirst. He caught her staring and moved toward her, crouching down beside her.

"Thirsty?"

She nodded, unable to do anything else. He set the cup to her lips, tilting it as she drank, her eyes sliding shut when he drew it back.

"What is your name?"

At first, she didn't notice the compulsion to answer, the subtle drag on her attention, the way she _wanted_ to speak against all sense or safety. Her lips opened, she caught a breath, and then stopped, or tried to, eyes widening as she said, "Melori Enara," while trying desperately _not _say it. Her mouth clicked shut and she hissed, looking away from him, her breath coming too quickly.

"That wasn't difficult, was it?" he said sweetly. "Ferelden by the accent, aren't you ... just a hint of Dalish in the lilt of your name. A familiar name, too. Why is that?"

Invisible fingers traced her skin, pulled the words from her lips, "I was in Tevinter." She said, cursing him inwardly. Cursing herself for stupidity and every other thing. Her mouth went on without her. "I was... a scholar ...," she tried to stop, the words straining out of her till she was panting with effort. "We ... worked with ... M-magister ... El... Eliseus."

"Ah! I remember now," he chuckled and stood, leaving her huddled and shaking. "You must be the slave who he claims started the war among his sons. There's quite a price on your head back home in Minrathous. The sons of Eliseus tore the city apart looking for you. And then four of them were found dead in an alleyway with no obvious evidence as to who killed them. It couldn't have been the slave, of course. Funny that you should stumble into my camp."

"I'm not a slave," she managed, anger spiking.

"No, obviously not. Though that will be amended, of course. Unless you prove useful to me here." He walked away, leaving the tent, and she buried her face in her knees, trying to call upon her magic ... to ... anything. But it hurt still, and the effort left her head pounding and her stomach roiling.

"Come now, we can't have this," he said when he returned, taking a seat on the lush bedroll along one side of the tent, leaning to one side, his arm cast negligently over his knee. He would have been handsome, she thought, if he his eyes held any life to them. "Tell me, Melori Enara, for I am quite enthralled to know, who are you working for these days?"

She bit her tongue to keep from speaking, her hands flexing in the chains as she resisted the pull of his magic. But the more she resisted, the worse the pressure became. She whimpered as the initially unnoticeable compulsion became a grasping fist, sweat beading on her forehead. He moved toward her when she did not speak, placing his hands on either side of her face, looking down at her with gentle expression. "Tell me now, or I will make it worse."

"_Ar tu na'din_," she spat at him, blood running down from the corner of her lip from her bitten tongue. "_Ar tu na'lin emma mi._"

He made it worse.

She told him, finally, weeping out the words in broken phrases. He smiled, stroking he hair with gentle, comforting hands, using the corner of his sleeve to wipe the blood away. "Isn't that better now that you've told me?"

* * *

She slept after a while, this time staggering through the maze from the previous dream, trying to find the dragon from before. Instead, she found an old woman sitting on a stool outside a ramshackle hut, sharpening a blade on a foot spun stone. "The dragon's gone away, my friend," said the woman. "I'm afraid you're out of luck."

"I'm not looking for luck," Melori answered, dropping to her knees and covering her face with her hands. "I need help."

"Oh? You want some hero to swoop in on their horse and carry you out of your troubles?" the old woman clicked her tongue. "I fear we're all out of heroes lately. They keep running directly into trouble, you know."

"But what do I do? If this keeps up, I'll tell them everything. The one weapon I have, I can't reach." It occurred to her suddenly that she might be spilling vital information to a demon in the Fade and her lips shut tightly. The old woman laughed at the expression on her face.

"Oh, _now_ you're cautious, little elf? You yell at dragons, yet fear an old woman?"

"I don't fear you," Melori said. "I just ... realized you might be ... "

"Oh? A demon? I suppose I could be. And what if I was? What if I could help you against the magister who has you bound?"

"You said I had to do this on my own," Melori answered. "Unless you're one of those lost heroes?"

"Hah hah hah!" The old woman stood, taking the blade she had been sharpening over to where Melori sat. "I may not be a hero, child, but I have something that may help. When you have need of it, draw this against your foe and see what you become."

The blade felt good in her hand, like the one she carried in her waking life. "Just ... reach for the blade?" she asked, turning it in her hand.

"Or don't," the old woman laughed again. "It's up to you."

.

* * *

NOTE II: _All the elvish is from the Dragon Age wiki Elven Language page or the Dalish Lexicon - some of it I've had to string together myself, which I admit may be hit or miss. If you want to know what any of it means and can't find it on the pages, just pop me a message :D_


	22. Chapter 22

_._

_Do you really think ... that it is weakness that yields to temptation? I tell you that there are terrible temptations that it requires strength, strength and courage, to yield to. To stake all one's life on a single moment, to risk everything on one throw, whether the stake be power or pleasure, I care not - there is no weakness in that._  
~ Oscar Wilde

.

* * *

Five days passed.

The mornings were quiet, and she dozed, waking only when her captors brought food and water. The lesser man called her knife ear, slave, and other names - some she didn't understand. When she did not respond, he would growl and stalk out of the tent, robes flapping behind him. The other, always brought questions along with the meals, not allowing her to feed herself, but sliding each bite between her lips and tilting the cup for her to drink. She preferred the awkward, restricted bending she had to do feed herself to the way he weighed each morsel with a heavy cost

"What do you do for the Inquisition?"

"Tell me about the Left Hand of the Divine."

"What do you know of the Wardens?"

"Tell me about the Inquisitor."

Every single answer hurt, every single resistance blossomed into agonies. She cursed him, threatened him, spat inimical names at him, condemned him to the Abyss and an army of darkspawn ... but there always came a point where the answers would escape her and he would stroke her hair, praise her, give her a drink from the cup of wine. . Occasionally he let her get up and walk around, stretching her legs as far as the chains would allow. There were things she managed not to tell him, hiding them in lies, obfuscating the truth. But she feared it would not be enough, and the longer she sat in that tent, the easier it became for him to make her speak. Still, she didn't give up. Her magic was returning, bit by bit, and it hurt less when she drew upon it, while everyone was away or asleep.

Others came to the camp, but none into his tent. She discovered his name from the conversations she overheard. Magister Gallus was well respected, even feared, by those who traveled to the camp. It appeared that he was organizing some kind of search of the Wastes which involved delving into ancient dwarven ruins, and she heard a great deal of talk regarding spiders the size of mabari, as well - apparently a driving concern among the Venatori.

On the second day, in the early evening, he was sitting on his bedroll, watching her as he sometimes did, a book on his knee, long fingers idly turning the pages. He wasn't asking questions for once, just irritating her with his presence. He would glance up, now and then, but she made it a point to ignore him. How much damage had she done? Had he already sent what he'd learned on to Corypheus and his minion, Calpernia? So far, she'd managed not to mention Adamant, at least, but it was only a matter of time. She would take the first chance she got.

* * *

The morning of the sixth day, Linius came to bring her breakfast while Gallus was out wherever it was he spent the day. Melori watched the man moving around the tent for a few minutes before he brought her food. He knelt beside her and shoved a bowl of porridge and a bowl of water next to her, pulling her chains to give her more room – as one might feed a mabari – and then backed away. It was still cold, and she shivered in her shirt sleeves and bare feet - they'd stripped her of her armor before chaining her up, leaving her in nothing but her long, loose blouse and the thin leggings she wore beneath her breeches.

"What?" she smiled at him, "Not going to scratch my head and say 'Good Girl', too?"

He turned as though to leave and she laughed, tilting her head to the side, remembering the old woman's voice from her dreams, how it burned with sarcasm as she spoke. "I suppose you do whatever he tells you, don't you? Lower born, I guess? Some Soporati's bastard who happened to have magic?"

He turned slowly, looking her up and down. Melori had her hands in her lap, her fists clenched. "Or are you one of those witless wonders? Not quite human enough to impress the Magisterium ... too much elf blood -!"

The bowls of food and water went flying as he grabbed her, shoving her hard against the metal pole and lifting his hand to strike her. Melori gasped and jerked her hands up, shoving them against his throat as close as the chains would allow and summoned lightning to her palms, slamming the energy into his body at close range. He gaped and shuddered, his eyes rolling back in his head. He fell to the floor in a twitching heap and she dropped to her knees, patting him down, searching for a knife or anything that could free her. She found a key ring on his belt, and tried each one, gasping with relief when one of them worked and the cuffs dropped to the rug.

Standing, Melori stepped over the body, her bare feet silent on the carpets as she moved toward the tent flap where she waited, listening to the movement in the camp. When she was certain there was no one to see, she crept out of the tent and around the back, pressing her back to the cloth, sliding down the sandbank on the other side and ran, seeing the descent into the canyon ahead. She fell a few times, striking her bare feet on the rocks as she went. Behind her rose the sound of hoof beats and her heart rose to her throat, but she did not stop, skidding along the sandy floor and darting behind a boulder, her hands clutching her chest as she tried to breathe.

"Well done killing Linius, though it was a futile gesture," Gallus said, his voice echoing a little against the canyon walls. "I know you're here, Melori. Come back now and I will not punish you."

That was most certainly a lie. Step by step she made her way downward, hiding behind the rocks as she went. He walked his horse further into the depths, as well, scanning the shadows for some sign of her. Melori reached the flat area at the bottom of the incline and stepped into the darker shadows beyond.

Something chittered just beyond the limits of her sight and she heard the click of hardened talons against the stones. She caught the flash of luminescent eyes and the sound of too many legs clattering as the creatures moved closer. Melori backed up, hitting the nearest boulder with her hip before she turned, running back the way she had come, sprinting past Gallus on his fine black horse. The bells on the bridle rang wildly as the stallion reared and the magister turned to face the giant spiders boiling up after her out of the canyon.

The Venatori swore and fire flared from his staff, the creatures screaming as they burned. Melori did not pause to watch, but kept running, stumbling up the rise and hoping he would be bitten and die with everything in her. But even giant spiders were not enough and she heard the hoof beats behind her once more and came to a halt, her eyes closing as she tried to catch her breath. Running would do no good, not against a horse and not on this terrain with no shoes. And she wasn't skilled enough to face a Magister of Gallus' power with only the spells she could summon without a staff. Whispering a prayer to Mythal, she remembered her training and felt her body lightening and strengthening with her magic.

She heard the horse behind her, stamping and snorting, and then Gallus' arm came around her waist, jerking her up into the saddle in front of him, his hands rough. "That was incredibly foolish," he said, his mouth pressed against her ear. "I would have spared your life, taken you to Tevinter and kept you as my own. But now? Well," his laugh was abrupt, unpleasant. "Now we'll see if you survive the night."

She pressed her lips together, holding herself still against him, not wanting to move. "I would kill myself before I would let you take me back to that place."

He laughed at that, his fingers jerking her closer, pressing hard into her ribs. "Rest easy, then. I will be doing the work for you. No one will ever know you were here. No one will remember who you were. Just another corpse at the base of a cliff."

"That's not exactly true," Melori answered. "You will _always_ remember my name."

"Will I?" He asked. "You're not the first I've killed in these Wastes, and you will not be the last. Yet you think yourself so memorable? You're nothing but a -"

The green gleam of the summoned blade slid in and through Gallus' chest as Melori turned, using her stored power to give her moment and force. He shuddered and his hand gripped her waist too tightly as blood escaped him in a hot flood that ran over her hand as the blade faded. He tried to speak, but his handsome face only grew paler and Gallus slumped against her before falling to the sand in a limp heap.

"Mythal help me_," _she muttered, struggling to bring the horse to a standstill, her eyes tracking the scarlet line in the sand as it soaked deep and pooled. The horse shook and jogged severely to the side and she took hold of the reins and turned it toward the top of the canyon and the desert beyond, her bloodied hands trembling.

* * *

She returned to the empty camp and found what she could of her armor, ragged with abuse, her journal, and her blade. There was food there - wine, bread, cheese, and water for the both herself and the horse. In the middle of the day, no one was out in the sweltering heat and she took what she could, slinging it over the saddle and trying to remount. It was harder with such a large animal and with no one around to give her a boost, and the stallion kept tossing his head at the smell of blood on her clothes. She was covered in sweat when she finally settled into the saddle, and her head felt a mess, battling betwen exhaustion, heat, and the memory of her blade in his body, of seeing his eyes flicker out as he slumped to the ground ...

"Stop it. Think of home ... think of anything else..." Melori told herself.

Traveling the desert went far more quickly while mounted, and she was pleased to see the distance between herself and the distant hills shortening as she rode. Still, it was too hot to go far, and when they eventually came to a grove of trees behind an ancient dwarven monument, she slid down off the horse's back, tying him to one of the trees and giving him some of the water she'd taken from the camp. She felt itchy and grimy with blood, and her forehead and nose were badly sunburnt. She huddled in the shade and drifted, trying not to think of the Gallus' face as he died until she nodded off into restless sleep.

"You found the blade," the old woman said when Melori walked through the dream and sat down on the steps of the ramshackle house's porch. There was a basket next to the woman's chair and she was slicing pieces of a root and letting them fall into it, one by one. "I hope it proved useful."

"I thought it would free me," Melori said, looking down at her hands. "He just ... it was so quick with both of them. Not like a battle or fighting a demon."

"He was also in your head, child," the woman said, reaching over to poke a bony finger into Melori's skull. "You'll be sorting that out for a while."

"I need to go back to where I was before ... "

"Keep the dragon on your right and you'll be fine," the old woman said and then laughed, her voice cackling in a way that made Melori wince. "You should probably wake up now."

"Will I see you again?"

A smile curved the woman's wrinkled lips and she shrugged, "Maybe. Maybe not. It depends what you decide to do with yourself."

* * *

The constellation of Draconis glittered overhead, and Melori did as she was told, keeping it carefully to the right as she navigated the treacherous sands. There were more Venatori camps and creatures in the way, and she made sure to ride around them as best she could - though there were a few times when it was all she could do to outrun them and, after, she had to find the stars again. As dawn arrived, she found another spot in the crook of a stone surrounded more of the sweet smelling trees and ate some of the food. The wine was warm, but wet, and she'd given the last of the water to the horse.

The sun climbed into the sky and she felt her eyes drifting shut ...

"Are you sure it's working?"

"I do know what I'm doing, dwarf. I happen to have some experience with this sort of thin ... Hey! Stop _touching_ it! Do you understand what's in this?"

"Warden, all I know is that you've been dragging us through this wasteland for two days and that thing hasn't got any brighter since we started."

"Actually, it has ... "

Melori opened her eyes to find the searing sun overhead, masked by the trees, but still hot. The horse was nibbling at the sparse plantlife, swishing its tail against its sides as it moved. If there were anyone else in the area ... she frowned. Had she dreamt the voices? It had sounded like Varric, Alistair, and Hawke ...

"The phylactory is working well enough."

That was Solas. She scrambled to her feet and nearly pitched forward on a leg that had fallen completely asleep and made a pained sound, before catching hold of one of the nearby trees and hopping on a leg shooting with pins and needles around the boulders that lay between them.

"Oh ... there we go," Alistair said, his voice sounding father away.

"Solas! Varric! ... please don't go ... please ..." She called out, wincing and trying to stamp her foot awake, almost tripping again in her haste. "Dammit!_" _ The curse escaped her as pain blossomed in her toes and she came around the wall of stone desperate that they not walk away without her, her hands outstretched.

"_Ma'falon_," large hands grasped hers and she found herself unexpectedly embraced, her face pressed against the other elf's chest. "Are you all right?" He asked, "Are you well?"

"Are you real?" She pushed away suddenly, staring at him. "This ... this isn't the Fade?"

Behind Solas she saw Varric, Alistair, and Hawke staring at her with wide eyes. Alistair held his blade in one hand and a metal shod phylactory by the chain in the other. The patterns beneath the glass shimmered and gleamed the closer he moved toward her. She took another step back, her eyes widening.

"This is not the Fade," Solas said following her and catching her hand, tugging her back to the others. "And yes, that is your phylactory."

"But that doesn't exist anymore. It shouldn't." she said slowly. "They disposed of those when the Circle dissolved."

Alistair lowered his hand, his expression somber, "Had we not had this, we would not have been able to find you."

"I ... where _ am _I? Where is Hugh? Is He ... ?" She couldn't bring herself to say the word and it lodged in her throat like a stone.

"He's alive," Hawke said in that calm way she had. "He's badly injured, but it was he who had your phylactory. When they brought him to Griffon Wing Keep, Alistair saw it and knew what to do. Your Templar would not lie still until we promised to find you."

She sagged against Solas in relief. "I saw him fall ... and then I was here. Wherever _here_ is."

"You are in the Hissing Wastes," Varric said. "Not exactly a great vacation spot, if you ask me."

"I'm in the _Hissing Wastes_?" Her eyes went very round. "How ... That's not possible."

Solas chuckled. "It is when you channel Fade energy through an artifact of great power. Vestor said you had taken a staff from the ruin in order to unlock the rift. Do you still have it?"

"No," she shuddered, feeling cold as she thought of the sheer stupidity of using the damn thing at all. "I fell out of the sky with a burnt out husk in my hands. I used it as the Rift was closing and ... well ..."

"Is nobody gonna ask why she's covered in blood beneath her armor?" Varric said, "Because that's all I'm seeing right now."

"I ... there was ..." she swallowed bile and looked away, feeling sick. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"We can talk when we get you away from here," Solas answered, giving Alistair and Hawke's nearly identically suspicious expressions a glare. "It will take a few days to return to the Approach. We will ask more questions there."

* * *

Dressed in a pair of borrowed leggings and a clean shirt, Melori wandered out of the tent in the middle of the night and sat down in the sand next to where Solas lay back against the dune, his eyes closed and his breathing even. She pulled the too large shirt around her for warmth and looked up to the stars and to Draconis, still on her right hand in the darkened sky.

"You're still lost," Solas said, his voice soft.

"I followed a halla through the desert," she said, looking down at her hands. "I yelled at a dragon in the Fade. And then I met an old woman who gave me a sword."

"That is not what troubles you, _ma'falon._"

Melori looked over her shoulder at him, "He was in my head ... and I told him things." her breath hitched and she scrubbed at her eyes with the too long sleeves - Alistair was ridiculously tall compared to her. "It doesn't matter now. He's dead. I ought to know..." she laughed humorlessly.

"_Ma'falon_," Solas said gently. "_Na dar'eth." _

"No, I'm not. I am afraid to close my eyes ... there's nothing safe about my dreams," she pressed a hand to her face.

"I will not let you fall into danger," he promised, drawing her down next to him in the warm sand. "Sleep."

* * *

.

NOTE: I took some liberties. I hope you all liked it! But if you didn't, things are going back toward normal for a bit after this.


	23. Chapter 23

"_Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around." ~ Leo Buscaglia_

_._

* * *

Each night she slept next to Solas, wrapped in a borrowed cloak and burrowed into the sand. Some mornings she woke with her hand in his, or she had pressed against his back - like a cat seeking warmth in the middle of winter. Other mornings he would be gone when she lifted her head, dazed and aching from the trouble in her head. No one remarked upon it, even Varric, though the others watched her as they traveled, not with hostility, but she recognized the caution in their eyes.

_Pressure to speak. Light brown eyes with flecks of gray staring into her own, a silken whisper delving into her head. Pain springing along her nerves as she bites her tongue. The horse shifts beneath her and she turns, the glitter of the Fade in her first as she shoves the blade home. Blood on her hands. In her mouth. On her clothes … but he doesn't fall, not this time. His words press closer, pull her nearer: "No one will ever know … no one will remember your name …" She tries not to answer, can't breathe, can't speak … there are demons in her dreams … _

After the second night, when she roused them all with her sobbing, they'd left her alone, more or less - though Varric always brought her breakfast. Sometimes she caught him watching her with a frown in his eyes. Solas was the only one of the four who didn't seem inclined to fret over her - he simply appeared beside her and stayed close by until it was time to move on, telling her stories or drawing her into conversations about mage craft and history until she had forgotten her exhaustion and fear.

The black horse that had been Gallus's grew used to her over as they traveled. He still tested her at every turn, but she liked the distraction. He danced with energy, his hoofs lifting from the ground as he hopped and kicked, letting her gentle him with soft words and a firm hand on the reins. Eventually he would calm and shake his head, bells shimmering as they walked.

They arrived at Griffon Wing Keep in the early evening to the sound of many voices, hammers, shouts, and commands. Someone hailed them from the gate, but there were so many people none of them could tell who it had been. Ducking her head over the black's neck, Melori followed Alistair's mount through the low gate and into the courtyard, weaving between the various carts and stacks of supplies that had been set up there. It was overwhelming after so many days alone and she gave a startled cry when Dorian appeared at her stirrup, laughing as he reached up to help her down – or, to be precise, dragged her out of the saddle.

"You're alive!" He exclaimed, eyes alight as he swung her around in a circle. "We thought you were dead after that stunt in the Ruin!"

"I thought I was, too," she answered, startled into laughter by his joy. Dorian was always full of electric energy, his moods swinging hot and cold faster than anyone could keep up, but this surprised her to the core. He sat her down on the stones and looked her over, noting the too large shirt, the dirt, and the grime. "Had a hard time of it, have we?"

"A bit," she said, tucking her hands behind her back, feeling twitchy and vaguely unreal. "Is... is Hugh all right? Is he here?"

"That's what I was about to tell you," he said. "He _was_ here until a few days ago. There are doings afoot with the Empress in Val Royeaux and the Inquisitor arranged for all the injured who could be moved to be taken back to Skyhold. She's departed, as well. Cassandra and I stayed to wait for the others."

"Oh," She faltered, her hands tightening together behind her and her ears roared. "I ... I ... guess that's how it is then."

"Are you all right?" he asked, watching her with his typical sharp gaze. "You've gone utterly pale."

The pressure in her head was back, and the tightness in her chest made it difficult to breathe. "I'm ... fine. Just need to sit down, I think," Melori lied.

"I dare say you do," Dorian muttered, then looked up and past her. "I think she's about to faint."

"Ah Ah! No you don't," Alistair said, one of his hands sliding under her elbow. "Things have been a little _tense_ since we found her in the Hissing Wastes."

"I'm right here," Melori snapped, then realized who she'd snapped at and took a breath. "I'm sorry."

"No need!" The warden said cheerfully. "You should hear what the other wardens say to me. You're never that nasty."

* * *

Melori spent a few hours in the healer's tent being prodded and poked, but with no conclusive results other than nerves and exhaustion. She was sitting on a cot waiting for them to tell her she could go when sharp steps could be heard outside and Cassandra swept into the tent, which was empty but for Melori and the healer- who excused herself almost immediately. The Seeker looked her over, and Melori looked down at her hands.

"You are alive."

She nodded, "I probably shouldn't be."

"That is what Solas said ... and Dorian. They are surprised you survived at all. Alistair and Hawke think you must have done something ..." Cassandra paused, looking for the word she wanted.

"They think I used some kind of blood magic, don't they?" She looked up then, meeting Cassandra's eyes. "I used magic, but not what they think."

"I want to yell at you," the Seeker said quietly, coming to sit on the cot opposite Melori. "But I don't yet know what to yell at you about."

"Not about using the staff?" Melori offered.

"Don't tempt me."

"Heh," Melori pushed her hair out of her eyes. The healers had had her take it down so they could check her for head wounds and it was going every which way. Her head was throbbing steadily, the pain pushing at her eyes. "I was taken by Venatori while I was trying to find my way back."

The Seeker sat up straighter, but she said nothing.

"One of them was a Magister of some kind, not like the one in the Ruins. More like Dorian ... but not." She stared at her hands, determined to get it out. Cassandra could decide what to do with her after. "I was in their camp for five or six days, and ... every day he would ask me questions." Her knuckles were white, gripping onto one another so tightly it hurt. "I tried not to answer. I made things up. I lied for everything I was worth."

"He was in my head. Whenever I didn't answer, there would be this … pressure. If I didn't answer, he pushed harder. Over and over again until I couldn't stop my own lips from speaking." Tears dripped onto her hands, the moisture sliding to the side and falling to the stone slabs beneath their feet. The story escaped her in small bursts, and fear she hadn't felt when she was sitting in the Venatori camp made her shake, cracked her voice. Speaking it aloud turned it from a nightmare in the wilderness to reality. Then Gallus was dead again, bleeding on the sand, and she was trying to breathe, trying to remember what relief felt like.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she said at last. "I'm to blame. I should have let him kill me, but I didn't ... I couldn't. Everything ... all of you… the Inquisition ... Skyhold ... I put it all in danger. I'm ... I'm prepared for whatever you deem a necessary punishment." Her words were jumbling together, her nails digging into her palms hard enough to draw blood.

"Melori," the Seeker's voice was soft. "The Maker asks much of us in these days, and you have done your part with all the strength you had."

"I wasn't strong enough ... _You_ would have resisted more."

"No, you were very strong. A Seeker cannot be dominated, but you are not a Seeker," Cassandra rested her hand on Melori's shoulder. "I cannot fault you and Leliana will not. You escaped and came back to us alive and, for that, I thank Andraste. We lose so many agents in the field that to have any return is close to a miracle."

"But -"

Cassandra shook her slightly, "_Listen_ to me. You did nothing the rest of us would not have done. Leliana will be proud of you - even pleased that you have come so far. The only folly I see here is that you used that damnable staff. Though I think Hugh will yell louder than I about that. If you wish to be punished for what you've done, I don't have it in me to do so. Now, lie down and rest. We are leaving in the morning and it will not do to have you over-tired. We must catch up to the Inquisitor's party if we can, or ride overland to Skyhold. Either way, it will be rough."

* * *

The party was forced to take the long haul through Orlais to the foothills of the Frostbacks, having missed the Inquisitor by a day and a half. Cassandra set a brutal pace and Melori found herself grateful both that "Tempest," as Varric had dubbed the stallion, was up to the challenge and that she was tired enough at the end of each day that most of her sleep was without dreams. Some of the territory they crossed was hostile, due to the civil war, and they were delayed several times while they skirted the fighting.

The third night was rough. They'd been forced through a barricade some mercenaries had built to barricade the roadway and it had taken hours to fight through the mess. By the time they'd made camp some miles away, it was full dark and everyone, even Cassandra, was bruised and bloody. Tonics and potions passed from hand to hand, and Solas recruited Melori to follow him around applying poultices to the wounds that didn't require immediate healing.

"Dammit," Alistair hissed as she helped wrap one of the hot poultices around his shoulder, biting at her lip as she tugged it tight. "Didn't even see that hammer till it was too late."

"At least it didn't hit your head," Hawke said. She had a lovely black eye and a goose egg on the back of her skull that she'd acquired while dodging the same hammer that had hit Alistair.

"Is that helping at all?" Melori asked, smoothing the bandage and wincing a little at the number of scars the warden bore. He'd taken his share of punishment over the years. "I'm not much of a healer, I'm afraid."

"It'll have to do," he smiled and started to shrug his shirt back on with a wince.

Melori took a seat nearby, fishing her journal out of her pack and opening to the next clean page. The poor book was a stained and wrinkled mess, but careful peeling got the pages apart. A drop of blood fell onto the page once she'd got it opened and she stared at it, blinking, only to realize her nose had started bleeding again. "Creator save me," she muttered, tilting her head back and putting the book down on top of her bag. "Can anybody rip me off a piece of bandage?"

"Here you go, Librarian. Damn, that fella got you good, didn't he?" Varric smirked, placing a square of cloth into her palm. "What did he hit you with?"

"Hid elbow," she managed as she held the cloth to her nose, "Could nod ged oud'da way fad enough."

"I told you to look out for the mage casting ice everywhere," Dorian muttered. He was laying on his back on a bedroll by the fire, one arm across his eyes while Solas worked on healing a gash in his leg. "Slowed you down, didn't he?"

"I admid to nodding," she said archly, the effect ruined by the rapidly reddening cloth at her nostrils.

"Let me see," Solas said, finishing up with Dorian and moving over to Melori, looking at her nose with a frown. "You should have told me he'd broken it."

"He didn'd? I thoud id was jus' … ow!" She flailed as he pressed on the side of her nose and began to cast a healing spell over her face. "Ow ow …! Solas!"

"Sit still."

"It would help," she said when he finally let go, her fingers hovering over her still aching nose, "If you wouldn't enjoy it so much."

His mouth curved as he turned away, "Practice a more stoic exterior and it would be less entertaining, _ma'falon_."

* * *

The lines of Skyhold grew taller in the distance as they made the climb into the valley, passing by the tents and soldiers. They were rough and blistered, tanned from the desert, bruised and aching from the fighting, and exhausted to their bones, but the entire party seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when they saw the castle ahead, banners snapping in the wind, and it seemed to take a long time to wend their way up the path to the first gate. Dennet and the stablehands were there to greet them when they rode beneath the arches, and he took hold of Tempest's bridle reins himself as Melori slid from the saddle, walking the horse in a circle before nodding at Melori.

"Ye've got good taste, my Lady. What's he called?"

"We've been calling him Tempest," she said, feeling unaccountably proud of a decision she hadn't actually made. "Though, I acquired him by accident more than intent, to be fair."

"Happy accident," the horseman laughed. "We'll make sure he's looked after proper."

"Thank you," She said, pulling down her saddlebags and realizing that, for the first time ever, her legs didn't feel boneless or sore after such a long ride. Everything else hurt, of course, but not that. "He likes to stick his nose into people when they're not looking. Just so you know." She watched for a moment as Dennet walked Tempest toward his new home, wondering if this meant the horse was actually hers or if she'd just donated him to the cause. Not that it mattered, really.

"What a _marvelous_ creature that is," a silky, drawling voice Melori only recognized from overheard conversations said behind her. She suppressed the urge to sigh, hoped her nose wasn't still purple, and turned around to face Vivienne with a pleasant smile plastered to her mouth.

"Thank you, my Lady. I'll relay your complements to him when he's settled."

"My dear, I have been desiring a word with you for some time now," the First Enchanter of Orlais smiled, her dark eyes flicking over the elf's disheveled appearance. "But, times as they are, you've been scurrying about all over Thedas, it seems."

"I'm honored, First Enchanter," Melori bowed her head politely. "Though I'm puzzled as to why you should wish to speak with me. Unless you wish to me help you with research of some kind? I'd be happy to do so, once I've settled back in."

"Oh no, child," Vivienne laughed, her voice dancing. "You misunderstand me. I've taken great care to identify all the mages in Skyhold. You were the most elusive, like a mouse among all those books."

Melori felt her brow lift and couldn't quite manage to maintain her polite expression. "Sadly, and you may ask Sister Leliana to confirm this for you if you wish, I am just a Librarian, my Lady. Speaking of whom, I should excuse myself now. I would like a chance to change before I meet with her."

"As you wish," Vivienne murmured, watching as Melori walked past.

* * *

It was difficult not to race straight through the castle to find Hugh, but she felt oddly reluctant and headed toward the baths on the other side of the kitchens instead. The women's side bath was empty in the mid-afternoon, which pleased her – her appearance was more than a little rough. A mirror near the door showed that her nose was sadly still purple, though not as swollen as it had been, and her hair was a tangled, ratted mess.

"Good thing I didn't rush straight over to Hugh," She laughed ruefully, working her armor off in bits and pieces and stripping out of her cloth and leggings.

Her body looked like a map of blue and purple, green and yellow bruises, newly healed cuts, and faint, pink scars. Even with the quick washes she'd managed along the route, there was dried blood and mud caked to her skin. Using the water from the warm tub, she scrubbed herself clean with a sponge and a bath brush. It took three soapings to get all the crud off, after which she tipped the tub into the drain and set about washing her hair at the pump in the wall until her scalp was tingling and there were no more knots, branches, or sand in it.

She had clothes enough in her bag to find something to wear other than her armor and under things, dressing before she spent time combing and braiding her hair. When she was at last ready to leave, she felt more like herself again, clean as she could be and no longer aching quite so badly.

The trek up to her room seemed surreal. So many things had been repaired while she was away that it took her a second to recognize the Great Hall, and there were people everywhere. She climbed the stairs past the library and walked past Vivienne's roost to the walkway leading to her room. The garden smelled lovely, the trees tipping their heads in the breeze, and she stopped in front of her door to wonder if he were actually inside … if he'd even been well enough at this point to have got to her rooms. She reached for the handle, hesitated.

"Are you waiting for someone to open the door for you?"

All her bags dropped to the floor and she spun where she stood, looking up at his pale face, the smile tugging at his lips as he reached to cup her cheek. "You're alive."

"So are you," She breathed, and then Hugh was kissing her again, pushing in the door behind her and walking her toward the bed – all thoughts of reporting in to Leliana flying from her head.

.

* * *

.

NOTE: _I think Vivienne makes an interesting Villain :D_


	24. Chapter 24

"_Sometimes people think they know you. They know a few facts about you, and they piece you together in a way that makes sense to them. And if you don't know yourself very well, you might even believe that they are right. But the truth is, that isn't you. That isn't you at all." ~_ Leila Sales

.

* * *

Late morning light streamed through the window and fell across the bed, gliding over Hugh's skin and across his brow as she watched. He was paler than usual, his chest still bandaged. Nearly well, but only just. Melori sat on the bed with her back to the wall and watched him sleep, worrying, wondering what would come next. Her fingers picked at the quilt, her head muzzy and tired, though she hadn't let herself sleep - not with the nightmares, not after the conversation they'd had the night before.

"You could have killed yourself," Hugh had said, his voice tight, his hands tracing patterns on her skin. "We thought you had died until the phylactory showed us otherwise."

"I saw you fall. I had no way to know it would do what it did, it seemed like a regular staff ... well ... and if I hadn't, that Magister would have killed you." Her voice had shaken. "I thought to save us, if I could."

"Melori, I am not so fragile that you must stand between me and the Maker."

"Cassandra said you nearly bled out," she stared at him. "I don't _want_ you to die while I live. Not if I can save you."

"But to use that artifact ..." He shook his head, reaching out to cup her cheek in his hand. "I saw an explosion of energy and you were gone. It happened so quickly. The next thing I knew everyone was looking for you, but you were nowhere to be found. Back at the Keep, I begged Ser Alistair to find you while they worked on me."

"He said you did, when they found me," Melori mrumured. "Though, I don't understand how you had my Phylactory."

He exhaled, his hand dropping away. "When you were first injured by the dragon, the healer's house was not far from the Circle Tower. I knew, even then, that I would stay with you, protect you. So I went to the Tower while you were asleep and I found your phylactory among what few remained." He'd flushed then, looking away from her. "I understand if you feel it was a betrayal. I am only glad that it helped in some way."

"I'm not ungrateful that it was available," she'd said, "But a little disturbed that you thought to acquire it."

"My original intention was simply to look around the Tower, to see what remained, but it occurred to me that the vial might still be there. Finding it was the final confirmation that you were indeed a mage." He'd pulled her closer, then, holding her against him. "What happened after the flash of light?"

"Oh, I got tossed into the Hissing Wastes," she'd answered, "Then I followed a Halla through the desert for a while ... though I've been told there are no Halla in the Hissing Wastes. I'm not sure what I was seeing now. There was some trouble with the Venatori, of course. I stole a horse and the others found me, eventually."

"Trouble with the Venatori?" Hugh had asked, his fingers tightening on her skin.

"It was nothing," she'd lied. "I got away and that's enough."

She'd not slept after that, even when he'd fallen away to dreaming, watching as he rested, her hand smoothing his hair. Telling Cassandra had been enough. Surely she needn't say it all again ...

* * *

"'…Celene is Orlais personified'," Melori quoted a day or two later, looking over the top of her book at Dorian with one brow lifted. "Hence the reason her survival is of such necessity."

"Please stop quoting Revered Mother Laeticia to me," he pled, lifting a hand at her in supplication, his other was clutching a bottle tightly round the neck. "You've been at it for _hours_, and I'm quite done."

"You're just pining," she said, stealing the bottle of whiskey back from him. "I'm not sure for _what_, but you've got that look about you."

"Dorian of House Pavus does not _pine_," he corrected her, watching her drink from the bottle with a lifted brow. "And you drink like an Antivan whore."

"Oh, thank you, Alta Pavus," She laughed, bowing elaborately in his general direction. "You'd know, I suppose."

He glared, which only made her laugh harder. "Stop ruining my insults, impudent elf."

"Was it that visiting noble?" Melori asked, leaning close to him, her eyes very wide. "The one with the beeeautiful swagger and the long, gleaming hair?"

Dorian groaned and took back the bottle, "What are you doing looking at other men when you have one of your own?"

"Doesn't mean I don't recognize a swagger when I see one," she said, sitting back up and leaning against the bookshelves in her little study. They'd been down there all day, searching for anything they could find that might help with the Orlesian situation and the upcoming Ball. Dorian had introduced a bottle of Tevinter brandy early on and they'd since moved through some of the many Ferelden whiskeys from the Inquisitor's wine cellar.

"If I were so inclined, I'd swagger you right out that door," Dorian pronounced, swinging the bottle to his lips. "You and you're 'Reverend mother' ... pah!"

"You couldn't," she giggled, pointing at him. "You're too … too …"

"Handsome?" He said hopefully.

"Tan!" she exclaimed, then fell over, laughing. "Sooooo tan."

"At least I'm not covered in spots," He shot back, nudging her with a toe.

"I don't have spots!"

"You _do_! Right here and here … and here," he answered, poking her in the face.

"Ow! Watch it with that thing!"

The door to the study opened at about that point, revealing the two of them laughing hysterically and jabbing at one another, books strewn to either side of them on the floor. Cullen eyed the mess and rolled his eyes, stepping carefully over the books till he was close enough to confiscate the whiskey. "No wonder nothing ever gets done around here."

"Ohh! Commander!" Melori said, staggering to her feet – partly by using his armor as a ladder. "I didn't see you there! Dorian! It's the Commander!"

"Please make her stop reading Reverend Mother Laeticia to me, Ser Cullen," Dorian pled, climbing to his feet, as well. "She keeps going and going with it."

"But it's important!" She protested. "It's all about the Empress and talks about how important she is to Thedan history!" She looked earnestly up into the Commander's face, "You agree with me, don't you?"

"Ahh ... well," He looked between them, flushing a little around his ears. "I'm sure anything you find will be of value."

"See! He agrees with me!" Melori looked to Dorian and grinned, tottering sideways and half-dragging the Commander with her. He grabbed her by the arms to steady her and frowned.

"This elf won't be satisfied unless we bow to her taste in historians." the Tevinter mage looked to the ceiling in pained acceptance and sighed huskily. "This is how we shall live now. Under the thumb of the tyrant."

"You're both insane," Cullen pronounced, looking between the two of them. He sighed, "I came down here to borrow a volume, though I think I'd best ask for it later."

"You're not going to stay?" Melori asked, face falling. "I'm not so drunk I couldn't find a book for you. That would require at least another bottle of whiskey."

"I'd best not," He smiled. "Last time I saw you drunk ... well ..." his ears flushed darker and he let go of her arms. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Please tell me you whispered scandalous things into that man's ear last time he saw you drunk," Dorian declared when Cullen had gone.

"No," Melori shook her head. "That's not what happened. Besides, what scandalous things would I whisper?" She asked, giving him a puzzled look.

"If you have to ask ..."

* * *

Hangovers were lovely things. Even better when Melori realized it was the wee hours of the morning and she'd never gone back to her rooms. Shuffling and yawning, she rubbed at her head and found the carafe of water she normally kept at her desk and poured herself a long drink. She'd not had a nightmare, at least. Carefully, gingerly, she stood to her feet and gathered her things, turning toward the door ... and froze in place at the sight of a large hat on top of a tall, lanky young man with a pale face and burning eyes.

"Um ..."

"Tired, worn out. Doesn't want to talk about it. Needs to talk about it." He said, his voice strangely cadenced. "Pain and pressure and blood on the sand. Words falling like stones, each one ripped from safety. He would have hurt you, hurt everyone. So he had to die -"

"Stop!" Melori had backed up until she was pressed against the desk, her eyes gone wide and her hands shaking so hard her glass dropped to the floor and rolled away. "Why ... what are you doing? Who are you?"

"I'm Cole. I want to help you. Make you safe. That's what I do - I help people. "

"But ... you were ... " She sighed, pulling her hands against her waist. "I've never seen you before."

"Don't do that," he said, stepping closer. "Pulling it all in, sending it deep where you think it won't hurt. It does hurt, even hidden. You are full of hurts ... old wounds that fester and bubble up, that make you afraid. Monsters from the Fade, they want to lock you in till the others come, till they can-"

"Must you keep doing that?" Melori exclaimed, feeling her heart beginning to race, her head spinning, "I didn't ask you into my mind!"

"I ... hurt you. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause you hurt. I can make you forget ... I can try again."

"What ... ?"

The room was empty, her water glass still tilting on the floor. Melori bent to pick it up, hissing when part of it broke off and her finger began to bleed. She stared at the broken glass, not remembering how she'd come to drop it.

* * *

The next morning, feeling disheveled and dry-eyed from the previous day's indulgences, Melori raced out of her room and down the passage, trying to force her hands into their gloves before she got to the lists. The Seeker was going to make her pay for being late, probably by making the experience as painful as possible. She darted through the door onto the balcony over the great hall and was about to sprint past Vivienne's small area when the woman turned away from the high windows and said, sweetly, "A word, my dear?"

Almost she continued past … but only almost. Leliana had explained to her in careful detail how it would be healthier to keep _Madame de Fer_ on her side, so Melori set a careful smile and moved over to where the mage waited, her rich, Orlesian finery glittering faintly in the early morning light.

"Yes, Lady Vivienne?"

"I thought perhaps to continue our discussion from the other day," the lady said. "I have heard that you will be attending the Ball at Halamshiral and it would be remiss of me not to speak with you on that count."

_That's news to me_, Melori thought, her brow lifting. "Ah, well, I'm on my way to practice and Lady Pentaghast is waiting. Perhaps …"

"Oh, they will not mind waiting a little longer, surely," the other woman smiled, though her eyes were alert and cold. "I have some concerns regarding your place within the Inquisiton. I'm certain you understand."

"Perhaps you would care to enlighten me, my Lady," Melori answered, feeling a swirl of irritation.

"I find it curious that you would prefer to live this way," the Lady said, turning the book in her hands between elegant fingers. "I wonder that you do not realize the danger in which you place yourself and others."

"Do you?" Melori's back had gone rigid, her head tilting at the challenge in the other's mage's eyes. "You know very little about me, Madame. Perhaps I am not who you believe me to be."

"The young are often so foolhardy; believing they know all there is to know. In my own experience, nothing is more deadly to a young mage than a lack of knowledge*," Vivienne mused.

"I believe you will find me more than adequate in my education, my Lady. I'm not certain what any of this has to do with Halamshiral." Melori managed to rein in her temper enough to reply.

"It is important that the Inquisition be seen as an institution that can bring positive change to Thedas, my dear," Vivienne replied, her lips curving slightly. "We cannot have unpredictable elements representing us among the high and mighty of Orlais. Tell me, what was your stance on the mage rebellion?"

"I'm sure I do not know, Lady Vivienne. I was a scholar working for the chantry at the time, lost in the library amidst the Chant of Light," Melori answered, though her head was beginning to pound. "If you will excuse me, I _must_ go to my sparring match with Lady Pentaghast. She does not take tardiness lightly."

"Another time, then," the Lady replied, returning to the balcony.

* * *

"She thinks we all belong in a cage," Melori complained late to Solas, who was pacing along the walls of the Atrium, working on the murals there. "That we're supposed to trust other people with our own personal safety, despite the fact that history shows us that no one is going to protect us, not forever - maybe not even in the moment. That there are apostates popping up all the time who are neither blood mages nor prone to possession likely hasn't occurred to her."

She was sitting in his desk chair and speaking quietly enough that no one in the balcony would hear. Her head was still pounding, and she was clutching a mug of medicinal tea to help with the pain. "What if they are sending me with everyone to Halamshiral? What do I know of The Game and the human courts? Not that they'd send an elf into the ballroom … "

"Perhaps they intend to do just that," he said, looking over his shoulder at her. "I think you do not wish to be so visible."

"No," she admitted. "Though …" her voice grew wistful and she found herself blushing unaccountably. "Ah … well."

He returned to the desk and put away his paints, eying her with a half-smile. "You still wish to go?"

"It's the Empress's Ball. I've never been to anything like that, and I admit I'm curious. All the finery and gossip, the Game at full tilt, the masks, and the music; I've read about such events, but never seen one," she hugged her arms round herself and yawned a little. "I suppose you've seen things in the Fade that would rival anything the Empress of Orlais can present?"

"I've seen many grand events," he nodded, "Some ceremonial, but many such as you imagine."

"I'd like to go," she murmured, taking a sip of her tea, feeling unaccountably sleepy. "But elves don't go to balls in Orlais, I think." She looked down at the mug with a frown. "I don't remember this was making me tired before … though I'm always tired lately."

"The couch is quite comfortable," he offered, frowning a little.

"I … think I'll do that," She answered, setting the mug down and leaving the desk, padding over to the couch near the door and curling up on one end, "I … um … sorry, Solas. Just … can't stay …'wake."

He had picked up her mug and sniffed it, making a face before setting it down. As she drifted off, she heard him say something sharply, but couldn't make out what it was, only that the name "Cole" seemed predominate.

"She isn't sleeping," someone said. "She _needed_ to sleep."

* * *

They were dancing, spinning, and bowing. their arching bodies dressed in beautiful layers of patterned cloths. Their heads tilted elegantly, limbs weaving through the movements of dances she'd never seen before. Melori moved among them, eyes wide as she heard the distant refrain of music. No one paid her any heed, and she was able to weave her way through the crowd, stopping to listen in on conversations or stare outright without causing a scene. It was beautiful and frightening at the same time. She could see the daggers at play in their eyes, hear the sharpness of their words as they challenged one another. But the language, though elven, was not the one she knew, making it difficult for her to understand - or perhaps that was just the dream and her imagination.

The building was magnificent, though parts of it faded into nothing at the corners, and she wandered along the edges of the room, peering out toward the gardens and watching the clandestine meetings there. Some of them quite scandalous.

"Do you like it?" At first, she did not realize who was speaking and turned in a confused circle till she found Solas watching from among the dancers, his hands folded behind his back.

"It is strange and lovely," Melori answered. "Strange to see so many who look like me dancing. I don't even know what dance this is."

"It is very old," he said, looking around him at the swaying figures. "And not much like the dances the humans enjoy. But the atmosphere is rich with lies and subtleties. A far more dangerous Game here than in Orlais."

"It makes me sad." She whispered, eyes following the elegant lines of the dancers. "I can't imagine what it must have been like to be one of them. Though I've never been much of a _proper _elf."

"What do you mean?" He asked, brows drawing down. "You're more curious and open by far than the Dalish I've met."

"I'm barely even Dalish," she answered, laughing a little. "I grew up in a Circle Tower. The only true things I know are what I learned from books and the _hahren_ of my mother's clan in the Brecilian Forest. Even then I wasn't really one of them." She shrugged lightly. "Not much of a mage and not much of an elf, I'm afraid. You, on the other hand, know more than anyone I've ever met about the Elvhen. You've seen what we truly were, what we can never be again."

"Do not say that, _ma falon," _he said, stepping forward, his hand on her arm. "Outside the Fade, things can _change_. Things _will_ change."

"Back to this?" she asked.

But Solas shook his head and led her in among the dancers. "Shall I teach you the steps?"

"I've never danced before," Melori said, a little worried. "I'll step all over you."

"No, you will not," he smiled and took her hands in his. "It is not so difficult as you think."

.

* * *

* Vivienne's line here is out of the game.


	25. Chapter 25

NOTE I: _ In my version of the DA:I Winter Palace ball, no one is wearing those ridiculous oufits they wear in game. If I don't describe everyone individually, think of them either wearing some appropriate in a ball gown, or a less armored, fancier version of their regular gear. The Inquisitor, I think, would be wearing something completely dashing, but not necessarily Orlesian. Probably something Ferelden (given that she's a Trevelyan). And Solas is NOT WEARING THE HAT. Omgwtfbbq. Everyone is probably wearing the same colors, at least. ((I'm picking black and silver)). So. That's how it's gonna be. Yeah. :D_

Note II: _Regarding Vivienne as a villain - she's a villain where Melori's concerned, not necessarily evil! Her goals are diametrically opposed to Melori's in several ways, so they're natural opponents. Believe me, I like Vivienne in game! But Vivienne has the power to really mess up Melori's life if she decided to do so. Honestly, I'm the biggest villain in Melori's life *Evil Grin* ALL THE POWAH! muahahahah!_

.

* * *

.

""_Sometimes you grow to love the shadow that follows."  
~_ Donna Lynn Hope  
.

* * *

.

Black with silver embroidery, the Inquisition insignia embroidered on the sleeves in a running pattern, a flowing skirt beneath a velvet tunic, and a laced corset over all. Not as stiff as the court attire of the Orlesians, but elegant in its own way, dark and rich. It clearly stated that she belonged the Inquisition, Melori thought, looking down at herself as Leliana adjusted a few things here and there.

"Why am I wearing this?" She asked tentatively. "I thought I was going to be in the servants quarters all night."

"For the most part, you will be," The spymaster smiled. "But we do not want you to be mistaken for one of Celene's or another lords. We will tell them you are our attendant, and that should give you access to the ballroom as well. While this looks fine to you, the Orlesians will see only the dark colors, modest fabrics, and simple design and understand your position is minor."

"I see," Melori nodded, fingering the mask she'd been given, as well. It was silver and in the shape of a cat, the swept back sides arching delicately. "And this?"

"If you wish to wear it, I thought it would suit you," Leliana nodded, stepping back and looking the elf over. "People tend to forget you have claws."

The entire outfit was better than any of her robes and vastly prettier, Melori thought, though she wasn't certain how it would do in a fight. She could breathe well enough, and she could feel hidden metal in the sleeves and bodice - armored pieces that could withstand possible attack, at least briefly. She'd already found pockets and there were small spaces hidden in the bodice to hide smaller things. All in all, it was a useful costume for a night spent snooping while everyone danced.

"Your hair is nearly as red as mine," Leliana smiled. "You should braid it up a little."

"I'll do that." Melori turned and spun a little in the clothes, thinking about the dance Solas had taught her and moving in the steps. "It's easy to move as long as the skirts don't get in the way."

"Tear them if you must. You may be the only eyes we have in certain areas during the dancing."

"Of course," Melori nodded, starting to undo the laces. "We're going to Duke Gaspard's estate and then onto the Palace?"

"Yes, though it will be a long ride to get there." Leliana reached out to help her, tutting a bit. "Like anything useful, you will require aid getting dressed."

"Some attendant I'll be, if I need an attendant to dress myself," Melori laughed.

* * *

They were to leave the next morning, which meant the entire castle was buzzing as people ran to and fro. It wasn't excitement, exactly, but more of a slowly rising tension. For those aware of the situation, this was a rescue attempt that had so much riding on it, they could not help but be grim-faced and stern. Cullen and Cassandra worked together to assemble a likely group of soldiers to take with them while Leliana prepared her spies, such as Melori, to infiltrate the servants and other areas. Rumor had it Josephine hadn't left her office for nearly two days.

The Inquisitor, on the other hand, was everywhere. Every time Melori turned around, the human woman was questioning someone, inspecting something, or asking for something else. When she appeared in the Study shortly after lunch, Melori was almost waiting for her.

"Enara! There you are! Leliana said you had the documents on Gaspard's movements for the last month with you?"

"Ahhh, Let me see ..." Melori had been half asleep and had to think about where the damn things were for a moment. "Oh! Here they are," She said, handing them over.

"I know I haven't had a chance to speak with you since you returned," The Inquisitor said. "But I wanted you to know, we're all glad you've come back to us."

"Oh, well," Melori flushed and smiled. "Thank you. I'm sorry I ..."

"No," the Inquisitor held out her hand, "Cassandra said you'd do this, and I won't allow it. What happened ... happened. You did nothing wrong. We have precious few agents who manage to survive as it is. Bad enough that I have to send all you into danger yet again."

"It's not as though you do not go with us," Melori said, looking up to meet those steady blue eyes. "You've given us something to fight for, my Lady, and a place to come home to when it's done."

"I didn't do it alone," The Inquisitor winked at her. "Are you ready for the ball?"

"Yes, though I don't have to be out in the public eye, thankfully," Melori smiled back. "Do you mind it? Being on display, I mean."

"I wouldn't wish to do it all the time, of course, but I cannot say I do not enjoy the thrill now and then." The blue eyes sparkled and Melori was treated to a mischievous grin. "Perhaps we'll hold a ball here when it's all done?"

"That could be fun, though now I'm trying to picture Bull dancing, and it doesn't work!"

"Now that we've imagined it, it must happen!" The Inquisitor laughed as she walked away. "I'll mention it to Josie tonight!"

* * *

Dinnertime in the keep was a quiet affair that evening. Melori had grabbed hers earlier with Hugh, eating in the garden and listening to Mother Giselle tell a story about her youth in the Chantry. It was a peaceful respite from the day, but when it was done they would have to part yet again. Hugh was unhappy that she would be going without him into the Winter Palace, though he admitted it would be awkward for a Templar to be seen hovering over an elven attendant.

"Otherwise, I would be there," he assured her as they walked through the garden.

"I know," she said, leaning up to kiss him. "We'll be back together soon enough. It's only the one night."

"That's all it takes," Hugh replied, pulling her closer. "And you've not been sleeping ..."

"Neither have you, but we manage where we must." She leaned her head against his chest for a while until the hour was called. He kissed her again, then left to join his men in the valley. Melori sighed and ducked back inside the castle, crossing the Great Hall and heading into the Atrium. She paused at the entry, eyes narrowed at the sight of Solas in deep conversation with a young man in a ridiculously large hat. Something about the hat tickled her mind, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. She was about to go round the other way, but Solas saw her and smiled.

"I should introduce you," he said. "Cole is a spirit who has taken on a rather unique form in our realm."

"A spirit?" Melori found her brow lifting, but she smiled tentatively as she approached. "You seem ... familiar to me, somehow."

"I tried to help you," Cole said. "It didn't work, so I made you forget."

"You what?" Both her brows lifted and she took a step back.

"They captured you in the desert. He was in your head, forcing the words out of your mouth. You tasted blood and he laughed. He praised you, petted you when you were broken. You didn't want to. You tried not..."

"Please. Stop." Melori's hands were in fists, her face as white as a sheet. She avoided Solas' eyes, staring instead at the spirit - at Cole. She backed up further, bumping against the desk chair and knocking it over.

"I'm sorry ... I thought, if Solas knew, he would know how to help you."

She shut her eyes and took a breath, felt a hand on her arm. "_Ma'falon_?"

"I do not wish to remember those things." Little flicks of energy where popping off her skin.

"But you never forget them," He answered, stepping closer. "They are always there, in the back of your mind. You can't sleep. I know I shouldn't have given you the draught. Solas said I shouldn't. But you _needed_ to sleep."

"Cole," Solas interrupted gently, stepping between them, blocking her view of the spirit. "I will help her."

"Should I make her forget me? Will that help?" Cole asked, the earnestness in his voice almost painful to hear. Melori crossed her arms and tried to think of _anything_ else. The walls seemed to be closing in on her, the air too heavy, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Go see if the Inquisitor needs your help, Cole," Solas suggested. "Or someone else in the castle. I'm sure you can find someone to help."

"I'll do that," Cole said ... and then he was gone.

"What he said …" Melori began.

"It is what he feels and sees - your memories and, perhaps, events surrounding you," Solas answered, having moved to his desk, studiously not looking toward her, his movements quiet and careful as he straightened the chair, setting it upright.

"Wonderful," she exhaled, closing her eyes. "I imagine he does that to everyone?"

"He overset Dorian so badly the man nearly wept," Solas answered. "Cole is a spirit of compassion. His only desire is to help and bring comfort. He saved the Inquisitor's life from the envy demon at Therinfal Redoubt, and appeared in Haven soon after. I'm surprised you hadn't seen him before now."

"I would have remembered that hat." She sighed and her shoulders slumped. "I should not have responded like that to … to what Cole said."

"I hardly think you could have prevented it." He looked over at her then, sighed and stepped closer. "You are incredibly stubborn, _ma'Falon_. But this may not be the proper cause."

"Perhaps not, but it shames me. It frightens me. Since we came to Skyhold, everything's become complicated," she said, twisting her hands in her tunic, tears sparking at her eyes. "I miss Caro and wandering through the snow in Haven. If she'd been there, she would have stopped me using that artifact."

Solas crooked a finger under chin, then, lifting her face up so he could see her eyes. "We cannot always know the consequences of our actions when we are presented with an ... unfortunate choice." His lips twisted a little and he stepped away. "When you are ready, perhaps you should speak to Dorian about what happened."

"He would be horrified."

"He might understand the magic used," Solas said. "And it would be good for him to help someone else."

Melori wiped her eyes on her sleeve, still feeling foolish and embarrassed. "I'm going to go now. I don't even remember what I came in here to do."

* * *

Commander Cullen had a very straight back while sitting on his horse. He also had a habit of singing while he rode, humming to himself in a slightly out of tune cadence that never seemed to resolve itself into a particular song. Melori had ended up behind him on the trail while she rode alongside Leliana, who had begun the journey by giving her instructions, but had wandered off somewhere along the way. His horse, a tall bay a white stripe across its face, was somehow bigger than Tempest, though not nearly so much trouble, and it was all Melori could do to keep her horse from crowding his when she wasn't paying attention - which was often because she kept dozing off.

"Enara," he said after the second hour. "Enara?"

She blinked for a moment, looking around in confusion before she realized they had somehow ended up alongside the road rather than on it. "Um ..."

"Do you never sleep?" He asked, as they rejoined the line.

"Not recently," she admitted. "It's less fun to fall asleep than it used to be, and I really haven't slept well in ... ten years? Since the Circle Tower, really."

"Nightmares?"

"Every night. Worse lately, but ... never good," she shifted in the saddle. "Do Templars have bad dreams?"

"Every night," he said, echoing her. "How old were you when the Circle was overrun?"

"Fifteen," she shifted in the saddle, stretching a little - and making sure Vivienne was far enough away that she wouldn't overhear. Everyone nearby already knew she was a mage at this point, but she wasn't inclined to admit it to Madame de Fer, accidentally or not. "I hadn't been harrowed yet."

"Did ... was I at your harrowing?" He asked, brow furrowed.

"You were still at the Circle," Melori answered, frowning in thought. "Mine was one of the first harrowings after the clean-up, so I imagine you were. It was very confusing, though ... I woke up to a lot of people shouting."

"Ah," he flushed a little, looking away. "I probably was, then."

"Well, my Harrowing was just odd. I was in the Fade in the dream, but I didn't see anything for a long time, and when I finally did, it was just a spirit, as Solas would call it, not a demon at all. He counseled me to strive for wisdom and then I woke up with a Templar blade at my throat, and the Grand Enchanter was arguing with Knight Commander Greagoir. I don't remember why."

"Probably because every Templar in the Tower saw every mage as a potential abomination," Cullen admitted, shaking his head. "No wonder you decided to hide."

"It wasn't just the Templars," Melori said, pausing while Tempest broke into one of his restless sideways hops. "If I'd stayed with things the way they were, I'd never have gotten out of the Tower. Leaving meant seeing what lay outside - though I ended up spending several years in the Temple of Andraste, carting books around for Brother Genitivi. It was worth it. You had far more reason to have nightmares, especially after Kirkwall."

"I'm rather amazed I didn't remember you because of all that hair," he chuckled. "It's very bright."

"I'm going to have to find a way to turn it brown," she laughed. "No one ever remarks on anything else."

* * *

Duke Gaspard's estate was elegant and well-appointed, and it easily accommodated their entire party, which included the Inquisitor, her advisers, companions, and the various agents who had come along. Baths were provided and everyone changed into their finery for the Ball. Melori had to ask for assistance from one of the other women in order to be laced into her clothing, but soon she was dressed and gathered with the others in the foyer, waiting for the carriages to take them to the Winter Palace.

The carriages were bumpy, rattling things, despite their fine appointments, and it was with relief that they soon joined the others and filtered into the impossibly elegant Winter Palace in Halamshiral. Melori entered through a side door, as she was not one of the guests, and spoke with some of the palace servants to find out where the attendants should go. There was a room somewhere off the main hall near the powder room from which she could attend to her ladies without becoming too great a bother.

The room was full of other attendants, gossiping as heavily as the nobles beyond. The Game, Melori thought, was as rich among the lesser classes as it was among the nobility, and she was rather glad she was wearing a mask. She listened where she could, but heard nothing but a few scandals here and there, which she noted for Leliana before finding her way back into the fine halls with a 'message' for her lady. Under that pretense, she found it quite easy to slip among the different rooms, barely regarded by the humans there - she was just another servant, after all.

She found Solas standing in one of the galleries, listening to the conversations flowing around with an amused expression. He was dressed in black and silver, like the rest of the party. A long coat and trousers in the elvish fashion that Melori thought made him look younger and, strangely, a little threatening. He saw her approaching and smiled, "That outfit rather suits you."

"I like it, as well, "She answered, giving a little twirl to show off the skirts. "It's less rigid than what's popular these days, which makes it easier to move. You seem to be enjoying yourself."

"I do adore the heady blend of power, intrigue, danger, and sex that permeates these events*," he answered, his lips curving. "It is exactly as I showed you the other evening. Nothing truly changes, particularly among the powerful."

"I saw blood on the floor in one of the other rooms," she said quietly. "And I heard them speaking of it, but no one really seems to care."

"Be careful, _ma falon_," he cautioned. "The danger here is tangible."

"I'll try," she promised. "But I should not linger. Leliana asked me to go to the servant's hall and see what I can find."

"I will watch for you to return," he replied. "If you are not back in due time, I will alert the Inquisitor."

"Thank you," she smiled before heading back the way she had come, ducking down a set of stairs and to a door set in the wall. She opened the door and stepped into a half-lit room, "Here I go."

.

* * *

_* From the game, partially paraphrased on the 2nd sentence._

Note III: _This undoubtedly needs more editing, but I'm tired. I'll be embarrassed in the morning, my dears._


	26. Chapter 26

NOTE: _Blood and Gore ahead. You've been warned._

NOTE II: _Also, certain elements of the in-game event are shifting a lot in terms of what happens when/where for this part . So, there's that, too. _

* * *

_._

_Dance, when you're broken open.  
Dance, if you've torn the bandage off.  
Dance in the middle of the fighting.  
Dance in your blood.  
Dance when you're perfectly free.  
_~ Rumi

.

* * *

The bell for the ball was ringing as she opened the door to the servant's quarters and slipped inside, her feet in their soft boots quiet on the floor. Melori's nose wrinkled as she entered, the faint scent of death on the air in the immediate corridor. Not a good sign. The corridor led into a series of rooms; commons, kitchen, and sleeping quarters - all dark but for the firelight. Lifting her hand, Melori summoned a small globe of light into her palm and held it up, only to suck in a deep breath of shock, her stomach roiling. Dead elves lay scattered through the rooms, most appearing as though they'd had no chance to fight.

"_Fenedhis!_" she cursed quietly, skirting the edges of the room, looking for anything that could tell her why they'd been killed. A journal on a table in the back of the sleeping area gave little information, and she left it behind, heading toward the exterior door and trying not to think about the horror at her feet. The garden lay beyond, and she extinguished the light before exiting, keeping to the shadows along the trimmed hedges. It would have been a lovely place had there not been bodies strewn along the ground here, as well.

A fountain played just ahead, and Melori crept forward to the edge of the terrace above and she peered down. A body, this time not an elf and dressed in fine clothes, lay beside the fountain with a dagger in its back. None of the other corpses were so deliberately murdered, she thought, trying to calm her pounding heart. Where the others were the obvious result of opportunity, this was deliberate violence. She inhaled and closed her eyes for a moment, steeling herself before she dropped down to the gravel below, waiting and listening to see if anyone were nearby.

Voices murmured a little way away, but no one had taken notice of her. Melori could see the body fairly well from her position, and noted the dead man wore the tabard of the Council of Heralds. The dagger in his back had a crest on the handle, but she could not quite make it out. The last thing she wanted to do was go out in the open to study that dagger, but ... "Mythal protect me from myself," she muttered as she moved forward, bending over the body for the briefest moment, memorizing the heraldry there and then continuing forward around the fountain on the opposite side to the voices she'd heard.

When she felt it was all clear, she made a dash for the columns along the side of the building, ducking into the shadows and gasping for breath. "Why did you let them talk you into this?" she whispered to herself. "You're a _Librarian_, you idiot. Not a Bard. Not even a spy."

Figures walked past her hiding place, and she held her breath, identifying them as Venatori. It made sense, considering all the dead servants, but she alone could not take so many. Her only option, she thought, was to go where she could better hide, to search what she could, then get out to tell Leliana what she found. There was a tall casement window behind her, and she pulled a knife from her bodice. Varric would have been better for the job, but she'd learned a few things traveling with him. She slipped the blade between the window frames, hoping to catch the latch and lift it. Her breath escaped her with a sigh when it worked.

Gently, she pushed the windows in and slid into the room beyond, her skirts shifting in a soft rustle as she dropped down to the marble floor. The room was some kind of office, dark and empty, but well appointed - she was no longer in the servants' quarters. The knife went back into her bodice as she looked around the room, going over the letters on the desk with a quick eye, taking two and tucking them into one of the pockets sewn into her sash. A sound on the other side of the door, and she froze, taking a moment to murmur, feeling the flicker of magic across her skin as she set her wards.

The door popped open and she moved, grabbing the Venatori by the face and slamming her back into the wall, power flooding through her palms and into the woman's head, causing her to jerk and twist, then slump. The scent of burning rose, and Melori turned away, letting the body fall to the ground, shaking her hand and trying to catch her breath. Footsteps sounded on the stone ahead and she swallowed drily. Her _only_ chance was to take them one at a time, working her way from room to room.

Kneeling, she pulled the sword from the dead woman's sheath and lifted it, testing the weight before edging out into the hallway, the blade glittering as frost fled down the metal. The Venatori was walking the wrong way, so she stepped back into the room, positioned herself at the door, and kicked over a vase. As the ceramic shattered, the steps returned toward her and she waited, one hand on the hilt, the other pressed against the pommel.

He came around the door, pausing at the sight of his dead companion, and Melori thrust as hard as she could, the flat of her hand on the pommel giving her added weight and the energy of her magic flooding through her body, adding strength. He gave a gasp and crumpled. Melori let go of the blade, her nose wrinkling as blood sprayed across the floor in an arc around him and over her skirts and hands. Bile rose, but she turned and edged out the door into the hall, checking to make sure she wasn't leaving tracks behind before moving on.

That was how it went through the various halls and galleries. She avoided the larger groups, sometimes waiting for them to break apart, catching stragglers and then moving on. Almost she was caught by a larger group as she crouched behind a dining table, heading toward the stair in the corner. Her skirt caught a chair leg and it moved, squeaking slightly. Melori held her breath, resisting the urge to shut her eyes, and gathered her energy, but someone mentioned a mouse and they turned back around.

More bodies lay on the stairs and throughout the upper stories, most of them elves. It was like a nightmare where the only way out was up, so she pushed forward step by step, trying not to consider what she was seeing, not to dwell on the dead and the smell. There were significant papers in a few of the rooms, but nothing shattering. The upper floors seemed quieter, less crowded. It was easier to deal with the Venatori she found, using distractions to catch them unaware. The few who fought were subdued by magic - draining, but effective. She thought, perhaps, she had underestimated herself - maybe Leliana had been right to trust her with this task.

* * *

Melori edged cautiously through an archway leading into a hallway lined with bright windows, a sword she'd collected out of one of the rooms in her right hand, still bloody from a previous encounter. Moonlight streamed into the space beyond, casting silver panels of light along the floor. Blood splashed one of the walls and there were more bodies here than she'd seen anywhere but the servant's quarters, most piled near the doors at the opposite end of the hall.

Seeing no enemies within, she took a few cautious steps forward, stopping when she heard a mocking laugh ahead. A lithe figure, dressed in checkered white and black dropped out of one of the windows into the room, blades flashing in her fists. Not a Venatori, but certainly not friendly ... not by the way her lips curved beneath her mask or by the blood splattered across her pristine white clothing.

"Ooh, a curious cat has come to play," the Harlequin murmured, her Orlesian accent turning the words into a purr. "I've been waiting to see if you could make it so far."

"Lovely," Melori muttered, "I suppose you're part of yet another faction, killing off whoever the Venatori don't slaughter?"

"Oh, no," the other woman shook her head, stalking on soft soled boots toward Melori. "We have a ... mutually beneficial partnership."

"That's unfortunate," Melori said, lifting the blade and concentrating. Sparks and pops of energy ran along the blade and she exhaled. "I suppose you're going to want to add me to your ..." she frowned toward the pile of bodies. "Collection?"

"That is the idea!"

The Harlequin made the first move, and, for a breathless moment of terror, Melori forgot everything, staggering back across the floor under a barrage of cutting blades. But then she felt the power running through her body, remembered the endless lessons with Cassandra, and she stepped into the attack, her blade clashing as it met the rogue's. Every miss meant a cut and the Harlequin was _fast,_ parrying and slicing with deadly precision. Every blow caused a wound, leaving no time to think.

All that stood between her and death was magic - and that was not infinite. She thought of the bodies along the hallways, of the elves who had died, and gritted her teeth, ducking as a blade skimmed past her cheek, drawing a line of blood. Her sword blocked an off-hand thrust and she tripped backward, nearly falling to her knees. But there was no time, no space for breath, and she felt her sleeve part. Cuts were blooming as quickly as the they could move, and, though she scored several, it was all she could do to keep herself standing.

A smoke grenade erupted and Melori yelped as a shoulder was thrust into her side, slamming her against a wall, leaving her coughing and dazed. She dodged the oncoming, inevitable thrust of blades, but not soon enough and staggered sideways, feeling her dress grow hot and wet where the steel had cut through fabric and past the metal sewn into her bodice. She paced away, pulling herself up by force of will, eyes darting around the smoky room.

The only sound was their panting and the slash of steel, the slip of fabric as they closed. She hooked an ankle around the Harlequin's leg and brought her down, slashing hard at the woman's chest only to see the other woman roll away, a crimson stain spreading over her shoulder. A kick to the knee and Melori landed hard on her back, barely blocking one blade only to feel another skip past her arm and bury into her side. She gasped at the icy pain of it and thrust her knee forward, catching the other woman in the stomach, knocking her halfway across the room.

Climbing shakily to her feet, she nearly slipped on the bloody tiles, not taking her eyes off her opponent. They were both of them bleeding badly, breathing heavily. Melori could feel her energy ebbing and had a bad feeling this was not going to end well if she could not bring it to a close.

"You fight like a cat," the woman said between gasps. Her arm was hanging limp at her side, though Melori knew she was still as deadly without its use. "All claw and fury. How do you move so quickly?"

"It's a ... thing I do," Melori answered and held up her hand. She saw the woman take a step back, fumbling at her belt for a throwing knife. Electrical currents raced and spat across Melori's palm as she concentrated. She was so tired, but ... she smiled as the scent of ozone rose around the room, and then the other woman screamed and tackled her to the ground, electrical energy shattering in all directions, some slamming into the Harlequin as she rolled across the floor with Melori, whose sword had gone sliding into the wall some distance away.

"_MERDE! _You are a mage?"

Melori grunted, fumbling to get a grip on the white checkered cloth, her hands sliding over the hilt of a throwing dagger. She worked it free and bucked upward, throwing the Harlequin to the side ... but losing the dagger as she did so. Rolling onto her stomach she crawled across the floor, trying to grab hold of it. Her ankle was grabbed and then yanked. She kicked, her fingers closing on the hilt, her breath coming in pants and gasps. Something hit her in the back, to the side and she screamed, the shallow blade sinking into her flesh.

Turning part way around she slashed as the other woman crawled over her, catching the woman in the eye. There was a scream of agony and then clawed hands grasped for her face. Melori turned her head and kept slashing, not sure when she caught the woman's throat, only knowing that, at some point, she stopped moving and lay limply across her in a rapidly growing pool of blood.

* * *

Humans are heavier when they're dead, even after they've lost most of the blood in their veins. Melori gagged and shoved the body off of her with an effort, crawling across the floor till she came to a wall and pulled herself slowly to her feet. Her hands left bloody prints along the fine white walls and streaks across the windows. Her skirts were sodden with blood, though they were already so black it was hard to tell what had wetted them. Her head was spinning with fatigue and pain, and she spent a moment leaning against the wall. She had to get to the others, to tell them about what had happened here ... but first she had to remember how her legs worked.

Eventually, knowing she had to move before anyone came, she staggered toward the end of the hall and back through the archway the way she had come before. Somewhere along the way, she remembered to look for a healing draught, the only one she'd been able to fit about her person, and she drank it. It took the bite out of the pain, and gave her strength to make it down a side stair she had seen earlier. It let out in a small courtyard nearer to the ball itself, and, from there, she found the attendant's rooms.

There were fewer attendants there than before, some of them asleep. None seemed to take any note of her as she moved past them to the toilet, her black skirts stiff with drying blood. The mirror showed her a white-pale face, blood stained, and wide green eyes that looked too large. She wiped the blood from her skin with a cloth - though the cut on her face would not be going anywhere. Her wounds ached deeply, persistently, even with the potion she'd taken, but she put the cat-eyed mask back on and stood shakily to her feet.

The Inquisitor needed to know what was going on in the servants' quarters.

* * *

A lot of stairs lay between the attendants' room and the Ball Room, she thought dazedly as she climbed a few more, pausing to rest at the top. No one was paying attention to the elf, which she found a little funny, a smile curving her lips. She'd been shown the side door used by the servants and she took it now, stopping again in the hallway to catch her breath. She was so tired, her heart pounding as though she'd climbed from the camp at the bottom of the valley to the Inquisitor's Tower at Skyhold on foot.

"Just a little more," she promised herself, pulling open the door and stepping round it, making her way past the bejeweled, ornate Orlesian nobles, her mask winking in the candlelit, blood marring the silver heraldry embroidered into her sleeves. It took a moment to find Leliana, and she paused for a moment, seeing the Left Hand standing in her elegant tunic and leggings, looking more a bard than a spymaster in the black and silver. The room seemed to tilt and Melori stumbled a little, catching her foot and straightening her back with a will. She would _not_ fall in front of the court of Orlais. No. That would happen later, in private. For now, she had only to walk half the distance of the dance floor.

It seemed a very long way...

* * *

.

NOTE III: _ The far away feeling is for real. I know from a recent experience with blood-loss related anemia. Everything goes into this Twilight Zone area and you feel disconnected from the world around you. Not really recommended for real life. _

NOTE IV: _this has been edited at the end / retconned a bit. So it is different. : ) _


	27. Chapter 27

**NOTE I: **_**I retconned a bit! So please go back to Chapter 26 and re-read the last section :D If you don't, you might find the first section here to be very confuzzling. Thank you!**_

NOTE II: _It was Jraice's idea! It was better than what I had planned!_

* * *

_._

_... I remember now  
Too far below to turn around  
Too bright a light to let go now  
Take me back my friend  
Take me back - back on home  
Gotta work gotta stay awake  
... God, I'm tired. Can I take a break?_

~ Kongos, _Take Me Back_

.

* * *

The courtiers were whispering. The closer she came to the Spymaster, the louder they became. Some of them turned their noses up at her, hidden behind fans, or stepped away. Others laughed and still others gasped. It wasn't clear if they were shocked at her audacity or if there was enough blood still visible to shock. She passed Lady Vivienne and saw the mage's eyes narrow, but kept walking. She could not halt now, or she would not make it.

Leliana noticed Melori's approach, of course, and she stepped forward, her lips curving slightly as Melori made it to where the spymaster stood. "I found what you asked for, my Lady," Melori said quietly, giving a bow with her fist pressed over her heart. It _hurt_, but she did it anyway, found the strength from the Creator knew where to rise, her face paper-white. She descirbed in low tones what she had seen in the lower quarters and in the Grand Apartments. Venatori. The Harlequin. The dagger in the Council of Heralds member's back. The heraldry on the pommel.

"Thank you, Melori," Leliana said. "The Inquisitor will find that fascinating, I'm certain."

She kept her chin level, her posture elevated along the walk back. Near the door she passed Cullen and stumbled, the floor tilting, and he caught her elbow, steadying her. "Enara?"

"I'm fine," she lied. "Just need to get out of here."

Melori walked down the length of the Atrium, feeling as though the world were darkening along the edges with each step. Turning left by the outer doors, she climbed clumsily up a short set of stairs to where the doors to the library stood open. It seemed appropriate, she thought, going inside. It was quiet there. That she did not make it to a chair before she sat down didn't matter so much. Her bones felt like jello and everything seemed strange and far away. Her hands were like ice.

Leaning her head back against the bookshelf behind her, she listened to the faint strains of music from the ballroom and drifted, imagining herself dancing ... and dancing ...

* * *

Lake Calenhad in the rain. The water pitted with rain drops, dull and gray beneath a leaden sky. Melori stood on the dock at the edge of the island and waited for the boat, knew it would never come for her. Her hair was soaked and she was shivering, her teeth chattering in the cold. It would be warmer inside, but she didn't want to go. The Templar at the door watched her pacing, and she wondered if he would follow her if she plunged into the lake. More likely he would stand on the shore and watch her drown, glad to be rid of yet another mage.

And there were probably lake monsters, anyway. Big ones. With multiple teeth.

She walked away from the lake, back toward the tower, and stared upward, letting the rain hit her face. It was so tall she couldn't quite see the top from where she was.

"In or out," the Templar said. "Make up your mind."

"But ...," she looked at him, miserable as he was in the rain. "If you wanted to leave and go home to your family, could you?"

"What kind of question is that?" He asked gruffly, though his head ducked. "Get inside already. You're soaked to the bone."

The doors opened beneath the pressure of her hand and she walked inside, squeezing her hair to dry it. A fire would help, she thought, still shivering. The Templar guards watched her pass, a small elf in a too-big robe, wet to the skin and freezing. She curved her shoulders and padded along the hall toward the apprentice dormitories, past the other bunks to where her bed and bunk were located in the corner. Some of the others were laughing and gossiping while she pulled a dry robe out of her trunk, along with her towel and soap.

"They caught two of the mages together," one of the girls said, leaning close to her friend.

"Oh? What happened?"

"Well, one of them is being sent to a different circle, but the other one was Anders. So he's in trouble again."

Melori shivered and gathered her things, heading toward the bathing area. Odd that so many lives converged here, in this tower on an island, she thought as she filled the tub with water and heated it with a spell. Or tried to. The water wouldn't warm. She put her hand in to the elbow, but it was cold, cold and dark. She stared into the murk and depth, saw something thrashing, lifting toward the surface, and threw herself away, watching in horror as an abomination rose dripping out the tub and came creeping toward her on two hands, a distorted mouth opening wide ...

* * *

"Monsters in the water. In the dark, in her dreams. Monsters and mistakes and decisions never made." Cole was leaning next to her, his hand on her head. "You will die soon."

"Cole," there was blood on her lips, her voice escaping with a breath. "I don't want to die."

"Dorian knows. He will bring help . Solas will heal you, help you."

"It's very cold." The frozen feeling had spread into her arms and through the rest of her body. She felt as though she had taken a dive into a frozen lake. Her mind slipped sideways and she remembered that Hugh was somewhere nearby, waiting on the grounds with his men. Her breath caught.

"I can find him, bring him here," Cole said,

But he had his duty to the men in his command. Melori shook her head. "I can't ask that."

"You should," he said.

"Of course she's in the library," Dorian said when they found her, his warm hands engulfing hers. "Can you hear me, Melori?"

"Did you come to ask me to dance?" She asked, groggy and pained, the words slipping out and running astray. "I don't think I can do that."

"I think, perhaps, you've danced too much tonight already," he replied, frowning. "Have you been _bathing_ in blood? I assure you, it's quite unattractive."

A laugh hiccupped through her and she gasped, wincing. "An Orlesian tried to use me ... as a pin cushion."

"They've no sense of style," he murmured. "Though you left the ballroom abuzz."

"Enough," Solas broke in, and Dorian backed away, letting the elf take a closer look. "_Ma falon_, _era serrana ma_, this will likely be unpleasant."

Unpleasant involved loosening the bodice to pull the metal armor out of her skin where the Harlequin's blades had shoved it when she'd taken the blade to the side. Without her sash and the bodice holding her together, the deeper wound began to bleed. It was longer than she had imagined, stretching from beneath her breast bone and slashing down nearly to her hip. When they lifted the bodice away, it dripped with blood, and Melori the world dropping away again.

Somewhere in the swimming dark of another dream, she felt the monsters on her trail and ran, swift and far, padded feet hitting the ground in endless rhythm, a steady beat that thudded in her chest. Trees swept past and she kept her head low, a warmth rising through her body as she turned to see if she'd outpaced them. In the distance she could see a shape against the skyline, a silhouette against the stars. It turned its head to look at her, teeth baring in the moonlight as it howled, red eyes gleaming in the dark.

Jerking awake, she found Solas next to her in the moonlight, the shadows sharp against the planes of his face. He smiled and shook his head, "Lie still. We will be leaving soon."

"The Ball is over?" she asked, her voice rough.

"And the Empress is saved, yes. Duke Gaspard was found a traitor, thanks to the evidence you found. His sister was working for Corypheus and the assassination attempt was hers."

She winced at that and tried to sit up, but her head spun and the newly healed wounds still hurt beneath the bandages wrapped round her waist. "I should ..."

"Reopen the wound I just spent an hour repairing?" he asked drily.

"At least look around the library," she muttered. "I'm never going to get another chance."

He laughed at that. "Lie still. I will take a look in your stead."

* * *

Duke Gaspard's estate had been ceded temporarily to the Inquisition's use by Empress Celene, as the Duke would soon be executed for treason and would have no more use for them. The carriages were as rough heading back as they had been on the way, but Melori barely noticed, having fallen immediately asleep once inside, her head leaning against Dorian's arm. When they arrived and he had helped her to the gravel drive, she stood for only a moment before she was lifted off her feet and into Hugh's arms.

"Idiot," he said tightly, his lips in her hair. "Cullen told me what happened."

"I'm all right," she managed, resting her head on his shoulder. "It wasn't so bad."

"She is not," Dorian said. "Don't listen to those well-meaning lies, Vestor."

"But I'm ..."

"You're going inside to have a bath and lie down," Hugh told her. "No arguments."

"That sounds too lovely for argument," she admitted. "I didn't expect you to be here. You don't have to leave?"

"No, not till the morning. The men are camped on the estate and we'll depart ahead of the Inquisitor. The Commander rides with them now so that I could be here to meet you. He and Cassandra have promised to look after you for me on the way to Skyhold."

"Oh, but I don't ..."

"You don't need a keeper?" His brow lifted.

"I have several already, apparently," she answered, her lips tightened at the memory of it, of what she had seen, and she swallowed. "I did nothing you would not have done."

His expression tangled somewhere between pride and frustration, and he sighed, leaning down so his forehead pressed against hers. "I should have been with you."

* * *

"You should have gone immediately to Solas!"

Melori leaned against her horse's side while Cassandra vented, attempting to remain upright while waiting for someone to lift her into the saddle. Hugh had no more kissed Melori good bye than the storm that was Seeker Pentaghast appeared and had been raging ever since. And she was damned if she going to hop around trying to get a foot in the stirrup while the Seeker raged. Passing out was a certainty and then she'd have Solas scolding her, as well.

"What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't," the embattled librarian said tiredly. "I remember wanting to go somewhere quiet, that's all. At that point, I wasn't exactly thinking clearly."

"You could have died in the Empress's library. As if the other scandals were not enough ..."

"As if they'd care that one more elf died in the library," Melori snapped. "Why do you think I was the one sent to the servants' quarters to begin with?"

"You should have run."

"And that damned Orlesian would have thrown a dagger into my back and I _would_ be dead now, not being yelled at by you," Melori leaned her head against Tempest's neck and sighed, reining her temper tighter, winding it down so the sharp words on the tip of her tongue would not wound. "Seeker ..."

"I am sorry," Cassandra interrupted, her voice gruff. "It is difficult to remember that you are not the terrified, over-armored elf in the lists at Haven any longer. That you survived the night is testament to that."

"Barely survived," Melori admitted. "In the end ... I .." she shut her mouth, remembering that last desperate scramble across the tiles to the throwing knife. "I was still terrified ... I still have a lot to learn."

"I have some ideas on that. We will keep training back in Skyhold," Cassandra promised, turning as Commander Cullen approached. "We assured Hugh we would keep you out of trouble."

"I don't just _dive_ into it, you know," Melori muttered.

"Is that so? We have witnesses who say otherwise," Cullen chuckled before looking at Tempest, who was behaving with misleading docility for the moment. "Couldn't we find you a different horse to ride back to Skyhold?"

"But Tempest is _my_ horse."

"Tempest is a damned nuisance," The Commander replied, though he smiled.

* * *

The nuisance proved fairly well behaved along the route back to Skyhold, fortunately. Melori was aching too badly to even consider dozing as everything knitted properly back together, and she'd found herself looking for distraction on the route home. Dorian, of course, proved reliable in that regard, and he rode alongside her telling her stories of his childhood and trying to make her laugh - which didn't help with the pain at all, but certainly proved distracting.

"I have been meaning to inquire," he said a few hours into the journey. "I have heard mention that you ran into Venatori while in the Wastes. Solas mentioned I should ask you about it."

"Oh," Melori shivered at the thought, her fingers tightening on her reins, but she nodded. "I ... all right. It's just ... not easy to think about."

"I have a few things like that myself," he nodded, understanding the hesitation in her voice. "But sometimes it helps to tell a friend what pains us." he chuckled, "Not that I find that any easier to do, even then."

"I was captured," she said, watching the way Tempest's ears flicked back toward her voice. It felt unreal after recent events, the shock of it having faded somewhat. "They shackled me to a tent post."

He didn't say anything, simply nodded and listened, so she continued. "One was just a ... a minor functionary of some kind, I think. He served the other, who told me he was a Magister from Minrathous. He was young and he might have been handsome but for..." she took a breath, feeling the memory of it edge closer. "his eyes. He was cold and cruel. Subtle. He asked me questions and I tried not to answer, which was a bad idea."

"He dominated you," Dorian said. "A blood mage then."

"If he was using blood, I didn't see it," Melori answered. "But the only blood mages I've ever seen were in the Circle Tower and they were not exactly skilled. It was ... messy there."

He shuddered and nodded. "A good observation. Those who practice in Tevinter have it down to an art, though some are more skilled than others. The empire was built on the blood of the elves, or so history tells us."

She licked her lips, feeling as though her mouth had grown dry, "If I resisted him, he added pressure until I couldn't ... couldn't stop talking. And then he'd praise me, pet me, and feed me from his glass of wine or his own plate. He said he would have taken me back to Tevinter if I hadn't killed the other Venatori."

"If he was Magister, I would know his name," Dorian said.

"Gallus," She answered, her lips twisting at the taste of the word. "He said his name was Gallus."

Dorian swore, loud and fluently, his horse coming to a dead stop. A few of the people behind them halted, confused and he waved them on, urging his mount to walk forward again. "Melori, how did you get away? This is important."

"I killed him," she said, voice thin. "I'd learned how to form a blade from fade magic, as you and Solas told me I could do, and he was threatening to kill me. So ... I summoned the blade and ... I used it."

"Maker," Dorian exhaled, collecting himself with an effort. "When we get to Skyhold, I want you to give me all the details you can bear. There is a chance, slim but real, that this Magister Gallus is the one I know. If he is ... well, I need to make certain before I will know how to help you."

She frowned at him, her brows drawing together. "Dorian?"

"No, don't ask me for details now," he held up his hand. "First you need to rest, and then we will talk."


	28. Chapter 28

NOTE: _Sorry for the delay on this chapter. I was incredibly sleepy last night and couldn't get through it. _

* * *

_._

_Blessed are they who stand before  
The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.  
Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just.  
~ _The Chant of Light - _Benedictions 4:10_

.

* * *

They had no more returned to Skyhold than they had left it again, it seemed. Moving forces overland took time and resources, and Melori found herself carried along by the tide of preparations. Almost the moment she dismounted in the castle yard, Leliana had her working, helping to process information and send out orders, collecting intelligence from incoming agents, and helping to get it into some format that would make sense to the Inquisitor and her advisors. She didn't sleep at all for several days and there was no chance to catch Hugh, who was acting as one of Cullen's seconds in the field.

It wasn't until they were again on a boat in the Waking Seas that she and Dorian had a chance to talk, huddled away from the rain and foam in one of the cabins while the ship tilted and rocked precariously through the storming waves. Melori had wakened from one of the worst of her dreams a little earlier and come to hide with the only other person still awake, tucking herself into a corner of his berth and shutting her eyes tightly every time the boat seemed destined to cast itself into the depths.

"We're not going to sink, you know," Dorian told her drily. He was reclined in a hammock, his feet propped against the side of the berth. "I've been on many sea voyages and most of them were far worse."

"Worse?" Melori squeaked as they tilted severely starboard. "Sea … monsters?"

"I've never seen one of those! Though I hear they can be quite frightening. There was one off the coast of Minrathous in the Nocen Sea. I heard it was nothing but tentacles and dragged an entire merchant ship beneath the waves so quickly that all hands were lost!" He chuckled, shaking his head. "Such tales are rare in these waters."

"Can … can we talk about _anything_ else?" She pleaded as the ship shuddered and the boards creaked.

"For a follower of a goddess affiliated with the sea, you're awfully … "

"_Fenedhis,_ Dorian! Anything else means not that!"

"I should teach you to swear in Tevene," he chuckled.

"_Vishante Kaffas," _Melori said in response, looking rather proud of herself. "I did learn a few things while I was visiting Minrathous. I read Tevene fluently."

"Your accent is appalling," he shuddered. "And of all the expressions to use!"

"I was only there for six months!"

"True," he paused, putting his feet on the floor and swinging around, his hands braced against the side of the berth. His voice was serious when spoke. "You've been to Minrathous, so you know what it's like there - the blood magic hidden in plain sight."

The shift in his tone caught her attention and Melori frowned back at him. "Yes, that's one of the things Master Isling was researching. He wanted to know the breadth of the practice and what it entailed." She shivered, remembering some of the materials she'd been forced to acquire for his research.

"Nicolo Gallus has a reputation in Tevinter, one he earned through tenacity and cruelty," Dorian explained. "He's been 'killed' before, but it's never quite taken hold the way his murderers hoped."

Melori stared at him, "But … not this time. I saw him die."

"Did you make certain he was gone?" Dorian asked quietly. "Why do you think the Chargers slit the throats of all their enemies after a fight? It's not enough to make sure the enemy is dead; a Qunari would know to take cautions against blood mages on the battlefield."

"Dorian …"

"You _may_ have managed it," he interrupted her, though his frown remained.

"He knows my name," she said softly. "He knows about the Inquisition … How do we find out if he's still alive? How do I fix-"

"_You_ do not," Dorian interrupted. "We tell the Inquisitor. She can have someone look for him while you stay where it's safe. Having latched onto you once, it'll be easier for him to try again. Best if you stay well away from him."

* * *

The Inquisition camp a few miles out from Adamant hummed with energy. Melori, who would normally have been functionally useless in a military camp, ended up in charge of all the various messages and intel coming in from all directions. She spent most of her time following the Inquisitor or the Commander, delivering and taking messages, sending out ravens to Leliana back at Skyhold, and trying to keep her wits about her.

The night before the attack was to begin, she sent the last raven out to Leliana and watched it lift into the cloudless sky. Whatever happened now, the plans were set. Alistair, Hawke, and Varric were sitting at a nearby fire, sharing a meal and talking quietly, and she could see some of the others moving about the camp. Hugh was likely in his tent, where she would be as soon as she could escape.

Her name was called and she turned, ducking back in to the makeshift 'war room' to find the Inquisitor looking over the maps of Adamant and the positions of the siege weaponry. The Commander was pacing, his hand at the back of his neck.

"Yes, my Lady?" Melori said, looking between the two of them.

"We've been discussing the final arrangements for tomorrow's battle," The Inquisitor said, glancing at Cullen. "And you're one of the last little items we were hoping to settle."

"Ahh, I'm an item to settle?" She blinked and tugged her jacket closer around her shoulders. "I understood that I was to hold back with Hugh and shadow him."

"That was the initial plan," Cullen said, nodding. "The siege engines will get us inside, but if the place is overrun with demons, we'll need to take them down as quickly as possible."

"What we're asking is whether or not you would be willing to carry a staff into battle, rather than your blade," The Inquisitor said simply.

"Ah," Melori hugged herself more tightly, looking between the two of them and then at the map. "If I do that ..."

"You'll be revealed to everyone," Cullen finished for her.

She chewed her lip, thinking it over. Everyone who _mattered_ to her knew what she was now, and they needed what she could do. "I haven't used my magic openly at any point in my life since I left the my mother's clan in the forest. I may not be as skilled as you hope."

"If it turns out you're no good to us in that way, throw the staff aside and draw your sword," the Inquisitor smiled. "Though I think you'll surprise yourself."

"At least it's for a good cause?" She said, trying for a smile. It felt a little wobbly. "I ... I can't tell you no. Not after Haven and ... well, after everything we've gone through so far. If you require me to wreak havoc at Adamant, who am I to refuse?"

"'Wreak havoc'," the Inquisitor laughed. "I like the sound of that."

"I always forget you're a storm mage ..." Cullen muttered, looking a little alarmed.

"I have a policy of not electrocuting my friends," Melori replied.

"Maker, I hope so," he chuckled, reaching up to rub the back of his neck again.

"Ah, the staff ..." the Inquisitor turned and went to the back of the tent where her cot was set up and leaned over it, picking up a long, black length of metal with a long , wicked blade on one end and a crystal set between two twisting lengths of metal on the other. "I was thinking of giving this to one of the others, but Solas said it reminded him of you."

Melori felt her brow lifting, but she went over to the Inquisitor and took the staff from her. It was heavy, or would have been, had she not spent so many of the last months carrying a blade around. When her hand closed over the center, she felt power running through her hand and her eyes widened. "This is ..."

"We found it in an ancient burrow, though I've been assured this particular staff won't send you to another part of the desert. Not _quite_ that powerful." The Inquisitor laughed.

"Good," Melori smiled, resting the staff against her shoulder. "Thank you."

* * *

The staff was a familiar weight in her hand, having carried one for so long. Melori eyed it as she walked, not sure if she liked the sight of it in her hand or if she wanted to toss it away into the sand. If she obeyed, if she did as they asked, it would end the charade. There would be no hiding from herself or anyone else that the librarian might also be a ... she laughed abruptly. Even in silent contemplation she had trouble admitting it.

"Melori?" Hugh leaned out of the tent ahead, his smile curving as the wind caught his dark hair and dusted it across his brow. "What made you laugh?"

"Just this absurdity," She said, lifting the staff so he could see it. "Apparently, I'm supposed to be ... well ... that thing I won't ever admit."

"Ahh, _that_," He reached out and took her free hand, tugging her into the tent and letting the tent flap drop behind her. His hands slid round her waist and his lips found hers, teasing away any thought of magecraft or staves or what was supposed to be compared to what was. He took the staff from her hand and propped it against the wall. "You won't be needing it tonight, I hope," he said, his hands coming back around and lifting her up off the floor.

"My head's hitting the tent," she protested between kisses, threading her fingers through his hair. Liking the way he smiled and bit at her lip.

"Can't have that," he chuckled, teeth trailing along her jaw and finding her ear. Melori melted against him, and he turned to the pile of blankets they'd been calling a 'bed' for the past two days, tumbling her down and burying his head in her neck while he untied and unstrapped and tossed bits of armor and leather this way and that. "Someday," he said, when he had her down to her undershirt and leggings, "We'll leave all this behind and you can be whatever you wish."

"On our island in the Amaranthine Sea?" Melori asked, running her fingers along his back beneath his shirt and watching him shiver.

"Wherever we are," he promised.

* * *

They helped one another into their armor before the dawn, neither really speaking. He kissed her once, then again, smiling when it made her breathless. When she walked out of the tent without the staff, he had it in his hand.

Melori frowned. "I don't want it."

"You will," he answered, his hand on her back. She followed him between the tents to where the men waited, staying on Hugh's heels, a shadow in silvery armor carrying a mage's staff. That got her a few looks, but she ignored them. Fear and excitement were rising in her stomach, and she shoved both down. She'd never seen a siege before and she'd never fought a warden, both of which were intimidating to contemplate on their own. That there were also demons involved … she remembered the abominations in the Circle Tower and swallowed.

"Don't think about it," Hugh told her, glancing over his shoulder.

"I know." Her voice was shaky, but she meant it. "It's just the entire thing seems so immense."

"You survived taking the fortress in Crestwood," he reminded her, nodding to the captains to call the march. There were Templars among the ranks, most of them serving in command positions, but several stood behind Hugh now. Melori could pick them out among the rest of the Inquisition troops, their armor gleaming.

"We weren't fighting wardens in Crestwood," she said quietly, falling in alongside him as they began to move forward.

"There are a thousand small battles ahead of us. All we must do is focus on each one as it comes to us." He said, looking down at her. "If I think we're in too deeply, I will call us back. All you must do is stay alive."

"You, too," she said, giving him a small smile.

"That _is_ the plan," he chuckled, turning to shout a command to the soldiers behind him. Ahead they could see and hear the sound of battle, the walls of Adamant appearing as they crested the dune. Beyond the fortress the Abyss yawned wide, black and corroded. The ladders were against the wall and the siege engines were throwing burning rocks and boulders in rapid rotation. They descended to join the ranks waiting for the ramming equipment to breach the gates. Commander Cullen shouted commands ahead, his hair and armor bright as he moved along the lines.

"If we become separated," Hugh said, leaning to speak into her ear. "Find Cullen."

She began to protest, but he gave her a look and she subsided. "I'll find Cullen."

The gate buckled inward and magic swelled at the gate as Solas and Dorian began to cast, the Inquisitor bright for a moment as she ducked inside. Cullen raised his sword and they followed the Herald of Andraste into Adamant with a roar.

* * *

They ran forward till they found something to hit. The Commander yelled for them to secure the walls, and they followed the Inquisitor through the labyrinthine fortress, killing any monsters they saw or any swords turned their way. Melori cast without thought, the crystal in her new staff gleaming and spitting lightning, storms gathering from her hand to manifest above the fray, spitting down energy in rapid bursts. She could feel the energy surging along her skin, snapping and popping as she moved, exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.

The moment they attained the battlements it was chaos – yelling, screaming, explosions, and demons everywhere. Melori heard a yell as she came to the top of the stairs, and flew sideways, losing her grip on her staff as a she was thrown across the battlement and came to a sharp stop against the stone crenellations. The terror demon that had struck her whipped its long tail and leapt after her, and she summoned the fade sword into her hand only to see it sent abruptly sideways as a man in Grey Warden armor slammed his shield into it and then Hugh had caught it's attention long enough to kill it.

"Saving you from abominations again, am I?" Alistair shouted above the din, giving her a hand up. Melori found her staff and grabbed it, trying to clear the ringing in her ears.

"I'm not complaining." She answered, then looked behind him and paled. "Creator …" she swore, beginning to cast. The Pride demon on the other end of the battlements roared as she released the bolts of lightning onto it. Alistair and Hugh were already running forward and she could see the flare of the other mage's magic hitting, all at the same time. The creature went down to one knee beneath the assault and eventually fell, but there was no time to pause or catch a breath.

They secured the battlements and the Inquisitor led the charge forward through the fortress. Melori was already tired, dredging up energy from the bottom of a potions bottle that someone thrust at her – she thought it might be one of the Chargers, but she wasn't certain.

Rounding the corner into the courtyard, they paused in a tight cluster behind the Inquisitor, staring in horror as the Warden Commander prepared to sacrifice one of her own. The Inquisitor was shouting, striding forward with anger in her eyes and an arrow ready to fly. Melori had her eyes on the Tevinter mage at the Warden Commander's side. When Clarel began to capitulate, Melori saw the man move, saw the magic bloom, and they heard the dragon's scream behind them.

"Dammit," Hugh grabbed Melori's arm and ran along the back of the courtyard, pushing her into an alcove and lifting his shield as dragon fire rained down on their heads. Screams and yells filled the yard as the remaining Grey Wardens turned away from fighting the Inquisition forces and began to surge forward. The mages turned abominations turned on the gathered allies and they found themselves embattled yet again. The ground shook beneath them as another Pride Demon slammed into the soldiers and the dragon swung back around for another pass.


	29. Chapter 29

NOTE: _Only marginal attention to the layout of Adamant given here. :) _

NOTE II: _Angst Warning. Tissues may be required._

* * *

_._

_Every so often, we all gaze into the abyss.  
It's a depressing fact of life that  
eventually the clock expires;  
eventually the sand in the hourglass runs out.  
It's the leaving behind of  
everything that matters to us  
that hurts the most._  
~ Ben Shapiro

.

* * *

Again they threw themselves forward, focusing on the spellbinders and other abominations while the main force fought the pride demon. Somewhere nearby, Melori could see the flashing fire of Dorian's spells and feel the force of it as Solas pulled power from the Fade. Her own spells crackled and exploded on contact, driving enemies back, shocking them into immobility, or killing them outright. Sometimes, if something slipped past Hugh, she found herself using the staff with a fluidity she had not had when she had first traveled through the Hinterlands.

When the pride demon crashed down, the Inquisitor left the field, chasing after Erimond, the Tevinter mage, and the Warden Commander. Hugh grabbed Melori's arm and they ran together for the stairs, seeing the other party disappearing around the bend a head. They took another route, heading upward to the next floor and along corridors to the back wall. Below them they saw Clarel and Erimond facing each other and a half broken walkway that jutted out over the Abyss, the blackened cliffs below them. The Inquisitor arrived and had leveled her bow at the Tevinter ...

"Down!" Hugh yelled, pulling Melori down with sudden force as the dragon swooped down over their heads, plunging toward the Warden Commander with a deafening scream. They watched in horror as it grabbed the woman up in its jaws, and then turned to run as the tail hit the wall beneath where they had crouched, the structure rocking and cracking beneath their feet. Melori looked back over her shoulder as a burst of blue white light suddenly filled the air behind them ... then everything shifted, and the floor opened up beneath their feet.

* * *

Coughing, crawling, scrabbling for purchase beneath stones and debris. Melori wiggled out from beneath the fallen floor into a haze of dust and smoke, her ears ringing and her head spinning. She could hear the muffled sound of many people fighting beyond one wall, and the singing of steel and the dark laughter of a pride demon somewhere nearer by. The room she had fallen into appeared to be a kitchen, and she had barely missed the knives on one of the tables, now crushed beneath fallen debris. The door was partially blocked, but there was enough room for her to climb up and wiggle through, pulling her staff along behind her.

The hazy light drifting down through the cracks in the walls revealed a small dining room and she stumbled through it, waving her hand in front of her to try to see more clearly - which only made her cough more. The floor above her groaned ominously and she quickened her steps, realizing as she moved that her armor was ruined on one side, ripped from shoulder to hip along the back.

_"Fenedhis_," She cursed, hoarsely, finding another door and going through it, then another, until she thought she would never leave the labyrinth.

Hugh would be nearby, surely. She'd seen him fall, but he hadn't been near her when she'd opened her eyes. So, it was find Hugh or look for Cullen. She swallowed tightly, wondering what they were still fighting - there had been few abominations left when they'd left the courtyard. But the amount of fade energy was strong in this area, she could feel it around them, as though the other side were very near. She pushed open yet another door and found herself on a lower walkway, nearer to the front of the Fortress than the back now.

"Dammit."

A set of steps led up to the battlements and she found herself where they'd fought the first demons. Inquisition troops held it now. "Do you know where Commander Cullen is?" She asked, unsurprised when they pointed her toward the sound of fighting. Her footsteps hit the stones as she hurried forward toward the twisting green light that ... abruptly and without warning disappeared with a snap and surge of energy. Running now, she found the stairs and nearly fell down them, taking the steps two at a time till she could see the Inquisitor and Alistair standing in the center of the courtyard.

"They walked out of the Fade," one of the soldiers said, awe in his voice, which would normally have had her stopping to ask questions, but she couldn't see Hugh anywhere.

"Find out who is left," she heard the Inquisitor say. "Then everyone gather here."

"Melori?" Cassandra caught at her arm as she passed, "What's wrong?"

"I can't find Hugh. I ... the floors collapsed beneath us and when I was able to look, I couldn't find him." Her breath caught and she sagged a little. "I got lost trying to get back here."

"I'll inform Cullen," the Seeker said. "Stay here."

"Commander!" a soldier called from across the Courtyard. "We found the Venatori."

Melori stood with her arms over her chest, watching as Cullen and Cassandra spoke to the soldier. When they both looked at her, she stepped forward, but Cullen's mouth tightened and he shook his head at her before following the woman out of the courtyard with the Seeker. Melori stayed for a brief moment, pacing, and then followed.

The wall was broken ahead and she had to climb over debris to get to it. When she turned the corner she saw Cullen standing outside an archway, speaking to one of the Templars, his expression grim. Something in her stomach twisted and she felt her feet hurrying, her staff struck the ground and the metal rang. He looked up and saw her, stepping into her path.

"Enara." His hand was heavy on her shoulder, the look in his eyes ... she pulled away and pushed past him into the space beyond the arch, her heart in her throat. At the back of the small courtyard, against the wall, the Templars had the Venatori pinned, and there were two other Templars on either side of the arch as she passed. To the center, lying in a heap, was a dead pride demon. And ... she stopped in her tracks, swaying.

Cassandra knelt beside a figure lying prone on the ground, shoulders bent, her dark hair picked up by the breeze. Melori felt herself moving, walking across the broken stones till she was standing beside the Seeker .. until she wasn't standing any longer. Her knees hit the pavement and her hands covered her mouth. For a long moment it was all she could do to breathe, her chest seemed to have closed.

"Melori," The Seeker turned. "He's ... they found him here, like this. He's gone."

"No, no..." Her hands found his hands, his face. "Hugh...!" He was pale, paler than she'd ever seen him. Blood at his temple, his lashes dark against his cheek. Her phylactory was in his hand, gleaming with a steady light. "You can't do this," She whispered, feeling herself shaking, not understanding why. "You can't. We were going to the Amaranthine Sea ... we were going to ... Hugh. Please ... Please... no... You promised me ..."

She leaned over him, her hands on his face, pressed her lips to his, remembering how he had kissed her that morning, how he had laughed when he lifted her into the tent the previous night, the expression on his face in the study beneath Skyhold when he had kissed her. "You can't go. Not yet. Not now. Please."

The Venatori began to laugh, mocking and vicious laughter from the man standing between the Templars not many paces away. The same man who had brought them to this, the same man ... Melori climbed slowly up on wavering feet, her staff forgotten on the ground. She felt herself moving forward, felt the power and the rage crackling, felt the wound cracking open.

"_Ma emma harel, _Venatori," her voice seemed far away, the energy crackling as she spoke. "_Ar tu na'lin emma mi."_

Behind her Cullen said something sharp. The Templars went for their blades. Melori felt the storm gathering, felt the power facing along her skin, and she saw the Venatori shrink away as she approached. She heard the song of metal leaving the scabbard, knew she would be faster than they could strike.

"Melori," Cassandra's voice was directly behind her, "Melori, you must stop."

"I cannot."

Strong arms wrapped around her, braving the sparking energy of gathering power, braving her pain and her rage. Cassandra pulled her tight, her arms trapping the elf's tight to her side and one hand lifting to cover her eyes. "Do not look at him. He is not worth what you are about to do." The Seeker said into her ear. "Hugh would not want you to die by Templar blades. He would not want you to die like this."

Tears slipped down Melori's face beneath Cassandra's hand, the spirit blade in her first faded. She nodded slowly.

"Take him to the Inquisitor," Cassandra said sharply to the Templars, though she did not let go of her grip on Melori. When they had gone, she said, "I loved him, too. He was my friend for many years."

"I don't know ... I don't know what to do."

"Come," Cassandra took her hand away from Melori's eyes and drew her back to where Hugh's body lay. "You must tell him goodbye."

* * *

The fire was crackling in the brazier inside the tent that night. She was staring at it, sitting in the nest of blankets and not moving, only breathing. It was difficult to remember to do that. Every now and then she'd remember his hand in her hair or his lips on her neck and forget, only coming back to herself with a gasp for air that did not fill the hollow space in her chest. Her head hurt from the fall through the floor, her mouth hurt where she'd taken a hit in the fighting, and she had bruises forming everywhere, but they all seemed like distant points of firelight in the Hissing Wastes. Too far to reach.

At some point, Dorian came into the tent. He just came in, no announcement, no invitation, and sat across from her on the rug, a bottle of wine to one side of him and a bowl of hot soup in the other. Her eyes found him and she looked away, unable to withstand the look in his eyes. "I'm not hungry."

"I know," He answered. "But you have to eat. And you need a healer to look at you."

"I can't eat," she shook her head. "I don't need a healer."

"You haven't seen you," he answered, reaching out and taking one of her hands in his. "Please don't force me to fetch Cullen or Cassandra here. You know how they like bossing us all about."

"It doesn't matter," she answered, frowning down at their hands. "I can't ... I couldn't find him, Dorian. He was right there, and I must have run past the broken wall. Hugh ... he had ... he had my phy... phylactory in his ... hands." Her body shook, her eyes sliding shut though the tears escaped despite her.

"Of course he did. You never saw how he looked at you when you were not looking back," Dorian's voice was gentle, his hand squeezing hers. "Please eat something? I think I can say with certainty Hugh would not want you to starve on his behalf."

* * *

Eventually, she left the tent. It wasn't that she would not have gladly stayed in the nest of blankets, but that the dire threat of having someone come in and pack it for her was too much to bear. Once that was done, she'd found herself moving around the camp in a sort of haze, doing whatever she was asked, so long as it was solitary and she didn't have to speak with anyone. Melori was packing away the maps and books in the Inquisitor's tent the day before they were to leave, focusing intently and pretending no one else was nearby, when she heard a gruff voice say from just outside the tent. "Hey, Ribbons."

"Hello, Bull," she said, not looking up. "Do you need something?

"Nah," he said, sitting down outside the tent. "Just saw you over here and thought I'd say hello."

"Oh," she stared down at the maps rolled neatly into their sections of the trunk. "Hello."

"I figured you probably don't feel much like talking," he said.

"Not really, no," she closed her eyes. Talking involved awareness and awareness involved remembering who and where she was... and then she was back at Adamant, kissing his cold lips that last time ... "I need to finish this."

"I ... uh... don't suppose you could do me a quick favor before I go?" He asked, glancing back at her.

"What do you need?"

"Just ... I've got this itch right here," he tilted his head, pointing to a place near his horns, "and I can't quite reach it. Hands too big."

Melori eyed him for a long moment, then put the lid down on the box and walked over, tucking the edge of Hugh's shirt back into her leather breaches. "Here?" She asked, leaning over his head.

"Yep," Bull answered, sighing as she scratched . "Thanks, Ribbons."

"You're welcome," she answered, turning to go. But he reached out and hooked an arm around her waist, pulling her in and hugging her before she could get away. For a moment she resisted, but when all he did was hug her, she relaxed, closing her eyes.

"We're here if you need us," Bull said, his voice soft. "You wanna come out and get toasted with the rest of us, we'll take care of you. Got it?"

She nodded and he released her, tugging on her braid as she walked away. When he was gone, she went back into the tent and opened the map chest, only to close it again when she found tears falling from down her face. But they were a little less painful than they had been before.

* * *

The next day was harder than the others. The night before, the Templars had built a pyre on the dunes outside the camp and she had sat outside in the sand and listened to the Chant of Light as the sparks flew high. His armor was packed away, so she had taken her phylactory with her, watching as the glow flickered brightly in her hands while the fire burned.

"_Draw your last breath, my friends,  
Cross the Veil and the Fade and all the stars in the sky.  
Rest at the Maker's right hand,  
And be Forgiven._ *

As they chanted, she whispered to the wind and the flames, "_O Falon'Din_ , _Lethanvir-Friend to the Dead_, _Guide my feet, calm my soul,_ _Lead me to my rest."**_

She had watched the pyre burn until the sun rose over the far off dunes. The rest of the day, she had ridden behind Cullen, thinking of the smoke still rising off the dune behind them.

"Enara," the Commander said when they were setting up camp for the night, reaching out to hold Tempest's reins while she dismounted. "Everything well?"

"Well enough," She nodded. "Hugh told me to find you if he and I became separated. I ... I hope you don't mind. Me following you around like a lost pup, I mean. It just ... It's one of the last things we talked about, he and I."

"Of course not," he answered. "I've done similar things myself in the past. You do what you must to keep moving."

.

* * *

.

*Chant of Light, _Trials_ 1:16  
_** Elven Prayer for the Dead_

_._

NOTE III: _Please don't hurt me. *hides under her bed* I can't breathe out of my nose now b/c I CRIED like an idiot writing this chapter, which has been in my head for weeks now. So. I'm sorry. I really am. It just had to happen for reasons. Lots of them. None of which I can think of right now b/c I'm still emotional. ._


	30. Chapter 30

_It is time, love, to break off that somber rose,  
Shut up the stars and bury the ash in the earth;  
And, in the rising of the light, wake with those who awoke ...  
_~ Pablo Neruda_  
_.

* * *

The trip back was beautiful and clear. The ship sailed through calm, blue seas, and almost everyone enjoyed the fresh air on the deck. Melori slept a great deal of the journey, keeping to her berth and trying not to afflict the others with stony silences and sudden bursts of tears. It was difficult to stay occupied on board a ship, and when she was alone, her thoughts turned inevitably to Hugh, which made it more difficult to leave the berth or do anything at all, caught as she was in the cycle. Still, someone usually showed up to drag her to dinner each evening, usually Dorian.

"Do you play Chess?" Cullen asked her the fifth evening while they were all crammed together at the table. "Dorian, the Inquisitor, and I sometimes play."

"All together?" her brows went up, and he gave a sudden laugh.

"No, obviously not, but I thought perhaps you might wish to play? The captain leant me his set," he explained.

"You're not afraid I'll start sobbing in the middle of the game?" she asked, breaking her bread to little bits over her stew. It tasted a little burnt, but the bread balanced it out enough to be edible.

"Of the many things I fear, that is not one of them," he answered gravely, though his eyes were smiling. "I might join you, however. Fair warning."

She felt her lips turning up at the picture of Commander Rutherford weeping over a game. "I'd like that. Playing chess, I mean. The thought of you weeping is terrifying."

"Good. Just, whatever you do, don't play against Solas," Cullen continued, speaking up so the other elf could hear. "He takes great delight in beating everyone he plays against."

"You do not make it easy, Commander," Solas smiled, bowing politely from across the table. "I would love to test our Librarian's mettle, if she's willing."

"I'm afraid I won't be much of a challenge," she admitted. "I never learned properly."

"Cullen will make a good teacher, then," The Inquisitor remarked as she edged into the crowded Mess, sliding behind Cullen and Melori to sit at the end of the bench next to the elf. "Ahh, stew again." She muttered, appearing less than enthused.

"It's not bad stew," Melori said. "Not if you put a lot of bread in it."

"I'll do that, then," the other woman said, reaching for one of the loaves in the basket at the center of the table. "Anything interesting going on?"

"The Commander asked me to play chess with him, as you heard," Melori answered, swirling her soup around in the bowl before taking a bite.

The Inquisitor looked at her with a smile, "Oh! We'll have to make a tournament of it."

Melori nodded, taking another bite and thinking how odd her life had become, to be squeezed between the Inquisitor and Commander of the Inquisition, sharing a meal as if it were the smallest of happenstances, which, for her, it was. She still felt numb around the edges, but she knew it could not go on. Corypheus was looking for something in the ancient places of Thedas, and they had to find it before he did. Hugh would not have let her sit idly while she could help - he would not have done so himself. It was exactly the sort of thing the Inquisition needed her to do – research, look into the dark corners, figure out the puzzle before the enemy did - and it might prove a distraction to the hollowness in her center.

* * *

Chess with Cullen took place on a shady spot on the deck. The Captain's set had been crafted for play at sea, and each of the hand carved figures snapped into place when they were moved to a new space on the board. They were carved in an Antivan style, and the board was gold and blue checked, with nautical symbols painted round the edges. Melori had never been particularly skilled at the game, lacking partners, but it was interesting to play against the Commander, who seemed to enjoy winning as much as he did explaining why her moves hadn't worked.

"Ready to toss me overboard yet?" she asked after the first few bouts.

"No! I enjoy watching you pick up new ideas," he answered. "I can see you calculating every time you realize a new possibility. Some of the moves you make are unexpected. Though I think I should council you not to play any card games - your face gives too much away."

"It reminds me of when I was studying with Master Tyrol in the Tower," she said, folding her hands in her lap and sitting back on the pile or ropes she'd acquired as a temporary chair. "He used to say I had a bad habit of making 'logical leaps' without providing source materials."

"I remember Tyrol," he mused, looking down at the board. "He was always giving me things to read."

"That meant he thought you had potential," she nodded, moving a piece across the board, then sighing in disappointment, when Cullen took advantage of her move and captured one of her Knights. "I forgot you could do that…"

Solas, who had been leaning against the rail behind her, stepped over beside her and looked at the board for a moment before saying, "You can still save the game."

"How? He has me hemmed in," Melori shook her head, rubbing her face with one hand. So far she hadn't had to stop, though she'd had a few wobbly moments. It felt good to sit in the sun with friends - and she was beginning to feel that they _were_ friends, not just companions or colleagues. The true kind who were patient and clever, who listened when necessary or distracted a person from grief and loss with a game of chess.

Solas pointed to one of the pawns, "Sacrifice the pawn and he will have to move, freeing your Queen."

"Oh," she blinked at the board and tilted her head. "I see it now."

"Teaching her to play in your cut-throat style?" Cullen asked, staring down at the board.

"It is how you win the game," Solas smiled. "It is impossible otherwise."

* * *

The seas grew gray and choppy as they approached the coast once more. The rain fell raggedly, hissing across the deck in bursts, and the passengers stayed below where it was at least a little dry and warmer. The ship was rocking and tossing, though not as badly as the previous sea voyage. Still, Melori was glad to disembark the next morning. The endless rocking had made her seasick for the first time in her life and the feel of steady ground beneath her feet was sweet relief.

She led Hugh's horse behind her on the way back to Skyhold, carrying what little he'd left behind. Dorian rode along beside her most of the journey back, his nose in a book of Tevinter poetry the captain had given him. Melori made notes in her journal along the route, sketching out her plan of study for when they returned to Skyhold, and the two kept a companionable silence between them, sometimes breaking it to discuss ideas about Corypheus, his identity, and the orb he carried.

Skyhold greeted them as it always did, bright under the high mountain sun and cold with the wind. Melori found herself stilling as they rode up the causeway, remembering the last few times she'd come this way and who had been waiting for her in the castle above. She put her face in her hands and wept, not quite able to halt the tide of tears. Tempest came to a disgruntled halt in the middle of the path, and Dorian put away his book and waited with her till all the others had passed them by and she came to a ragged stop.

"I'm sorry," she said, trying to find a handkerchief and, failing that, tried to used her sleeve, but he handed her a colorful piece of silk from his pocket instead. Melori stared at it a moment, then laughed, her voice shaking. "It's too pretty to use."

"Nonsense," he said, flashing a smile. "That is the point of elegance, is it not? To ruffle it up and ruin it?"

She stared up at the castle, wiping her eyes with the scrap of soft silk. "We have work to do, I suppose."

"Towers of it," He answered.

She nodded firmly, nudging Tempest back into a walk. "They all think me an idiot."

"I think some of them would have stopped to join you, actually," Dorian's voice was quiet. "So many have been lost. I can't imagine you're the only one who has had to stop in their tracks to mourn."

* * *

That they had a lot of work waiting for them in Skyhold was not an exaggeration. Melori was given perhaps a night to unpack and rest - where resting meant going to her room, locking the door, and putting each of Hugh's things away. That she emerged the next day paler than a ghost with shadows beneath her eyes and a haunted expression said more than words could have done. And, though he disapproved, Dorian helped her put a cot in her study when she asked. Though he heaped it high with more pillows and blankets than she'd imagined possible.

"It's bloody cold down here and you've no fire," he insisted.

"It's fine," she'd said, already going through the stack of reports Leliana had left on her desk. "I can't stay ... in the other room. At least here I can work and then sleep, and I'm near the baths and the kitchen. Couldn't be better, right?"

He sighed and shook his head, "As you wish, dear Librarian. But I am informing the Inquisitor that you've run mad."

After that, they both took turns sleeping on the cot as they waded through the reports and the research. Melori stretched a map between the bookshelves next to the desk, wedging the corners beneath some of the heavier books, and they spent hours tracing locations and matching them to information in the books they had to hand. Days passed, a week .. and they could see a pattern emerging, though it made no sense.

"What is he looking for?" Melori muttered to herself, paging through an old book written in a shaky, elven hand. "Half the books we have give hints, but never the full information. It's as though the original expeditions to those tombs and ruins either never went completely inside or found them looted already when they arrived."

"You could ask the witch in the garden," Dorian said, equally frustrated. "She claims to know a great deal about ... well, everything."

"There's a witch in the garden?" Melori echoed, blinking at him. "When did that happen?"

"Mmm ... after the ball? You were somewhat out of sorts at the time, if I recall."

"It sounds like a story," she said, laying the book on the table and standing with a groan. "Ugh, I feel as though I could sleep for a century. A walk will do me good."

"Going to speak with her?" he asked, looking up from his own book.

"May as well," she nodded. "Do you want to join me?"

"Oh, no." he held up a hand. "That woman is more obnoxious than I am. I'll stay right here, if you please."

Melori shook her head with a smile and made her way out of the study. She passed by Varric along the way, but he was speaking to a hooded dwarf and they both had a ... well, a furtive quality to them, and Melori kept going, heading out into the garden. It smelled lovely with all the fresh herbs and the growing things. She stopped next to one of the trees, relaxing in the soft breeze that came down out of the mountains - cold but clean.

Not seeing anyone who looked like a 'witch' hanging about, Melori was about to go back into the castle when a young boy, about nine or ten years old, ran past and then stopped, turning to look at her with an oddly knowing expression in his eyes.

"You have a light behind you," he said, smiling at her.

"Do I?" Melori turned to look, but saw nothing. "I don't see it."

"It flickered away when you turned around," he said, "I think it's hiding from you."

"That's odd," she answered, turning to look at him. "Do you often see lights behind people?"

"I see lots of things," he said, wrinkling his nose. "Are you a mage like my mother?"

"Perhaps," Melori answered, bemused. "Most people know me as a librarian. My name is Melori."

"Making another friend, Kieran?" a velvety voice said from behind Melori, who turned and found a tall, dark woman standing behind her. This had to be the witch, she looked every inch the word ... though certainly not of the old and bent variety.

"This is Melori, Mother," the child said. "She has a light following her."

"I'm still not sure what you mean by that," Melori smiled at him. "Is it there now?"

"No, it went away when you tried to look at it," he said solemnly.

"How curious," his mother said. "Though I think this is not where I should have found you. Back to your studies, Kieran."

"Yes, mother," he sighed, giving his new friend a little wave as he wandered off. His mother laughed softly and shook her head.

"He's a sweet child," Melori said when he had gone.

"He is, isn't he?" Gold eyes turned on the her and she had the strangest feeling she was standing in the sights of a potential predator. Her back straightened and she looked back steadily. A smile crept across the woman's features. "I am Morrigan. I take it you were looking for me?"

"I was, yes. Though I did not know your name at the time," Melori said. "I'm the Librarian and ... well, we thought perhaps you could help us."

"I am here to serve the Inquisiton. What help did you need?"

"We are trying to identify what it is Corypheus is looking for in the various ruins he keeps sending his Venatori to sack," Melori explained. "I'm seeing a pattern, but ... whatever he was looking for isn't there anymore. I'm fairly certain he hasn't found it yet."

"Ahh, 'tis a puzzle you've brought me," the witch murmured. "And I think I may have the answer"

* * *

It was tall and gleaming with liquid light that ... _sang_ and _whispered. _Melori had to restrain herself from reaching out to touch it, her hands clasped into fists at her sides. When Morrigan had brought her into the room off the garden, she'd not been sure what she would see, but to find herself face to face with an Eluvian? She swallowed, hard.

"I've never seen one before," she said quietly.

"It took me many years to acquire it," the witch answered with a degree of satisfaction. "And this is what I think Corypheus is after. He wishes to reach the Black City, as has been said, but how will he get there without the anchor? The only way left him is an eluvian."

"Where ...," Melori took another breath, tried to speak again. "Where does it lead?"

"A crossroads," Morrigan answered, beckoning. "I will show you, if you like."

"I ... of course!" She swallowed, trying very hard to look less wide-eyed and failing utterly. "I've read about them, seen broken ones in ruins, but ... this ... this is irresistible."

"Indeed. It is refreshing to meet someone as curious as I. Most Circle mages are wary of such devices."

"Oh," Melori folder her arms across her chest, trying not to dance from foot to foot in excitement. "I'm not one to do what the Chantry or the Circles tell me. I ran away as soon as I could make my escape."

"I like you better already, " Morrigan laughed, leading the way through the Eluvian. "Follow me."

It felt like stepping through a bath of lyrium, cold and tingling and energizing at the same time ... if a little dizzying. Melori came out the other side and gaped. Ancient stonework rose in broken arches around a series of other eluvians and ornate statuary shaped like the stylized trees often seen in Dalish patterns. Everything was shrouded in fog, a natural grayness and silver light illuminating the space. Melori turned in a slow circle, trying to take it all in, her eyes very wide.

"This is incredible," she breathed, reaching out to touch one of the statues of Mythal that graced the sides of the eluvian they had just stepped through. "It doesn't seem as though we are in the Fade ... but we are definitely not on the regular plane, either."

"No," Morrigan agreed, "We are not. This is a between place of sorts. The Veil is very thin here, as you can tell. I believe that if Corypheus were to enter here, he would use the power he has in the Orb to rip open the Fade and step through as he desires."

"Oh," Melori stopped moving, her breath catching in horror at the thought. "Yes, that seems like something he would do."

"Fortunately, eluvians are rare. I know of only a few others, and most are incredibly difficult to reach." The witch shook her head. "I have been searching for possible locations myself, before I inform your Inquisitor."

"I may be able to help you with that," Melori offered. "We have a map, and we've been working out where he's been and where the Venatori are working. Some places we've cleared out already, but others ..." she shook her head. "If I show it to you, perhaps you would be able to tell us where he might be headed?"

"I believe that would be very helpful, yes," Morrigan nodded thoughtfully.

Melori looked around one last time with a sigh, "I'll take you to my study, if you don't mind. That's where we have the map and all the books laid out. As much as I hate to leave this place, we should probably waste no time."

"Take a few moments, at least," Morrigan said, "I know I would do the same were I you."

* * *

.

NOTE II: _Losing a loved one never just ... shuts off, but I know, in my own life, the busier I am, the more I have to do and think about that isn't ... that ... helps a great deal. But, sometimes, you remember and it all floods back, no matter how long ago the loss occurred. So, trying not to make Melori a sobbing mess all the time, but staying true to the fact that she did just lose someone incredibly important to her, and that she's WAY too good at shoving things down where she doesn't have to deal with them. Yet. :) _


	31. Chapter 31

NOTE: _Sorry this is going up so late. I wasn't able to finish yesterday and was out most of today._

* * *

_._

_To Sorrow I bade good-morrow,  
And thought to leave her far away behind;  
But cheerly, cheerly, She loves me dearly:  
She is so constant to me, and so kind.  
~ _John Keats

.

* * *

"_It is a truth universally acknowledged that nothing is more successful at inspiring a person to mischief as being told _not_ to do something._" Melori read aloud from one of her books, looking over the top of it at Dorian. "Sister Petrine is one of my favorites, though she often wanders into propaganda and back again."

"Which volume is that?" he asked, looking up from his own reading.

"_Of Fires, Circles, and Templars: A History of Magic in the Chantry_, by Sister Petrine, Chantry scholar," Melori said, "Petrine is sympathetic to elves and mages more often than not. It's uncommon honesty. Did you know that, before the Circles, the mages were kept inside the chantry – much like city elves are kept as servants. The Circles were, apparently, a result of rebellion."

"From bad to worse, in my opinion," He shook his head. "I do wish you'd stop quoting chantry sisters at me."

"When I would wear my hair over my ears while I was at the Archive, people thought _I_ was a chantry sister," she smiled, putting the book aside and going back to the other tomes. "Some of these books that arrived from Kirkwall are simply amazing."

"That ancient _Book of Shartan_ is fascinating," he agreed. "Though I'm not certain how it will help us …"

"Most of the good information is located in the journals they sent," Melori answered. "Some of these are quite old, and others … well, don't mention that we have them to anyone. I think the Templars would smite us on principle."

"The evils of blood magic, I presume?"

"Oh, that and so much more," Melori rubbed her forehead tiredly. "But nothing to push us further east and south. The Orlesian library sent a lot of books on the Dales, so I thought I'd read through those tonight. And there are some curious rubbings that came with a letter Varric's friend Merrill sent."

"Rubbings?"

"Here," she ducked down and rummaged through one of the stacks, and Dorian reached to steady it as the whole thing began to sway dangerously. Melori pulled a large piece of vellum from a packet and unfolded it. "See? It's some kind of elvhen ceremony that she found at an altar to Mythal at Sundermount near Kirkwall. I've never seen anything quite like it. But nothing really significant to our search. If there was an eluvian involved, she doesn't say."

"Well, it's something. I think our best bet would be the Exalted Plains, currently. Morrigan suggested we search there," he offered, pushing the book he'd been reading toward her.

"Or the Emerald Graves," she nodded, rubbing her eyes. "There are potential sites in both places."

"Then that is where we'll look," he said. "But, before that, I need some rest."

She waved a hand at him. "Cot's free. I want to keep reading."

* * *

It was dark, the only light in the study the mage light she'd suspended over the desk. Melori lifted her head to the sound of soft snoring, and saw Dorian had fallen asleep on the cot, carelessly sprawled with his knuckles pressed to his brow. Even in sleep, he looked elegant, she thought, draping one of the blankets over him. Her back hurt and she stood, stretching her hands above her head and feeling everything pop, and a few of the newer scars burned, hitching a little as she moved. Tottering a little, still half-asleep, she left the study and ambled toward the kitchen for an apple and something to drink.

"You …"

"Cole," she interrupted before he could speak. "There are certain things that would make me very _unhappy_ to hear right now. Do you understand?"

The boy stared at her from beneath the brim of his hat, "You would turn me into a smoking hole in the floor." He said, which was such an accurate description of what she'd felt, that Melori laughed.

"Exactly."

"But you're in pain," he said. "Everything tumbling, empty and full, too much to think …"

"I'm going upstairs," She said, turning toward the door and crossing the empty dining hall. "Go comfort someone else."

"You're so close to what he's looking for," Cole said, his head down. "You've almost found it. He's happy."

She paused, her brows drawing together as she looked at him. "Who do you mean?"

"Your friend. The one who follows you. He's been helping you."

Melori felt a faint shiver running along her spine. "Cole … you don't mean Dorian, do you?" She said - it wasn't a question.

"No! This one hasn't got a name. He's like I was. _Before_."

She swayed on her feet, wondering if she were somehow in a dream, but a hand to the wall kept her upright, and she stared at him, heart pounding. "What do you mean, like you were?"

"A spirit," Cole answered. "He was with you in the Tower. He told you how to hide. And after, too. He's helping. He was the Halla in the desert."

"Oh …" Melori turned back to the stair, starting up the steps and continuing through the Great Hall, her slippered feet almost silent as she pushed through the door to the Atrium. The room was empty, and she remembered that Solas wasn't there. He hadn't been since the Inquisitor had left for Emprise d'Leon a week earlier. She sagged onto the couch and put her face in her hands. Cole crouched on the floor in front of her, concern in his eyes.

"He doesn't want to hurt. He just wanted you to know what he knew."

"He's … he's not a demon?" She asked, terror streaking through her at the word. "You're certain?"

"He likes knowing things," Cole said. "He helps you when he can. Helps you find the things you need to know."

A deep breath followed by another. "He's just … with me? He's not part of me?"

"He follows you," Cole explained again. "You were afraid before. He stayed on the edges, prodding and whispering. He's your friend."

"Friends speak to one another," she exclaimed, dropping her hands to stare at him.

"Enara?" The door on the other side of the Atrium was open, though she hadn't noticed, and Cullen looked inside. "I thought I heard your voice."

"Bright as a fire on a cold night, worried about her, without her … it sings," Cole said as the Commander walked into the room. "Sings and sings."

"Ah … yes," Cullen gave Cole a look that would have instantly silenced anyone else. Cole simply looked back at him with that strange way of his, and the Commander rolled his eyes. "Perhaps you should go _help _someone else, Cole. I'm afraid I'm not in the mood."

"She has a friend but now she's afraid. Because he could be something else. _ Mean_ something else," Cole said in his usual enigmatic way and disappeared. The two remaining looked at the spot where he had been, then back at each other.

"Well," said Cullen. "He does like to dig, doesn't he?"

"Sometimes, I'm not entirely certain what or who he means," Melori said, standing up a little awkwardly and wishing she'd grabbed something to throw over her shoulders. It was a little cool in the castle.

"Are you all right?" He ventured.

"I'm ... fine," she said. "As much as I can be. Cole told me something ... um ..." being followed by a spirit, friendly or not, was not the sort of thing she wanted to admit to the former Knight Commander. "It's something Solas would know about, I'm afraid."

"Then I shall not press you," he said, mouth curving in amusement. "We do seem to wander the halls at night, don't we?"

"Old habits," she answered, finding herself smiling back. "What are you doing up so late?"

"Couldn't sleep," he said, and she noticed that he looked tired and pale, more vulnerable than usual with his hair tousled from sleep and dressed simply in a tunic and trousers. "Thought perhaps I'd find a book to read. I suppose you might have a recommendation?"

"I'm sure we can find something," she smiled, "Follow me!"

* * *

A while later they were in among the shelves, talking quietly as she found different books and offered them for his review. He'd read more of them than she'd expected, making it something of a challenge.

"Do you do this often?" she asked, leaning back against the shelves while he paged through a journal she had given him. "I didn't think anyone outside the scholars up here had read as much as you have. I may have to find you something from my study at this rate."

"I ..." He glanced at her, sighed, and tucked the book under one arm, resting a shoulder against shelf next to her. "You know about the lyrium of course."

Melori nodded, "Hugh told me a little, though he never let me see him take it - it's incredibly dangerous for a mage without being diluted properly. I know how the Chantry has used it to keep the Templars confined to their service."

"Yes, well, there is a reason it is so effective. When you stop taking it, the absence becomes ... difficult," he rubbed at his face with his free hand. "The stuff _sings _and the cravings do not stop. They can be ignored, certainly, but there is always ..." he stopped and frowned, "Forgive me. I should not be burdening you with this."

"No! No. I am not burdened, simply concerned for your sake," she shook her head. "This is what keeps you up at night?"

"The nightmares." he said simply. "I relive all the worst moments of my life in my dreams - the Circle Tower, Kirkwall, the deaths when we fought to reach the Breach those first days. It all comes back as though I am still living it."

Melori shuddered, remembering the Circle and what he'd gone through there. "Oh, that is, I think, an excellent reason for not staying in bed. There are things I would not wish to relive, and I have not seen so many horrors as you have."

"But you _have_ seen them," Cullen said quietly, and she looked up to meet his eyes.

"I have. I can't imagine there are many souls in Ferelden who were alive during the Blight who did not see their fair share of terror," she paused, thinking. "But ... if we had not, we would not be here now, would we? You would be somewhere at a Circle Tower and I would never have left mine. Perhaps you would the Knight Commander of the Ferelden Circle and I just a mage in it."

"You think that would not have been better - a peaceful life in the Tower? After all you've been through since coming to the Inquisition?"

Her chin lifted and Melori smiled, a little painfully, "Some things are worth the cost. I'd pay it gladly again if it meant ... well," she swallowed a little and pushed off from the shelf, reaching out to touch his hand gently. "If you ever wish to talk, we're almost always in the study anymore. You don't have to suffer the nightmares alone."

He turned his hand and caught hers, squeezing it for a moment before letting her go. "I will remember that."

"Good night, Commander," she smiled at him, making her way to the stairs and heading down.

* * *

The murals caught her attention as she entered the Atrium and she spun in a slow circle, noting what had been included, what left out. They were deceptively simple things, painted in clear colors and solid lines. The destruction of the Conclave in orange and gold - obviously the colors of the Chantry, followed by the creation of the Inquisition. She paused at the wolves, walking across the room and reaching out to touch the dried plaster.

"A wolf pack?" She said aloud, smiling a little at the idea before stepping backward across the room to lean against his desk, studying the other murals that followed: recruiting the Templars, the destruction of Haven, Celene's ball and the attempted assassination, then Adamant and the Warden's griffon on a field of blue. To be a part of something that helped others, that was fighting for a common cause - it was not at all how she'd pictured her life when she'd been sitting in the Archive while the Conclave convened.

Melori shifted her weight against the desk and something fell to the floor. She followed after it, finding one of Solas's paint brushes. Returning it to his desk, she absently took note of the books and the notes there. On several, there were drawings of a familiar orb amid notes written in Elvish, though it was an old hand she had not often encountered, and a great many symbols she had never seen before. Turning the pages of one of the notebooks, she they all used the same script.

"Hmm," her fingers reached out to turn another page and she stopped herself. It might not be the best cause, to look through his things, but the urge to do so was great. Melori snatched her hand away and straightened. A bath, she thought, and then she would find a book and an apple.

* * *

The closet was locked and warded. Senior Enchanter Tyrol had pushed her inside with a brusque command and slammed the doors behind her. Crouched among his robes, Melori had peered out the keyhole of the closet, not knowing how afraid she ought to be or what she was about to see. There was an odd, metallic scent to the air, coppery to the tongue, and Tyrol was standing in the center of the room, his staff ready, wards set all around him. The door burst open, and a wolf walked into the room ... and it hadn't been a wolf in reality... it had been an abomination.

Tyrol died with teeth at his throat, and she felt a scream building in her chest like fire. The thing turned and paced the room, head low, scenting along the floor. As it stalked toward the closet where she hid, Melori saw it had several sets of eyes, all flaming and scarlet as red lyrium, and she slammed herself back against the rear of the closet, a whimper escaping her throat. Through the keyhole, she saw the thing grow larger as it drew near, as its eyes found her through the keyhole, as the searing heat of its lyrium eyes enveloped her ... "_Tel dirth, da'fen. Na din'da'reth."_

Waking, she staggered out of her desk chair and ran out of the study, a hand clasped over her mouth. Someone had left a bucket in the empty dining hall and she fell to her knees beside it, heaving, her hands flat on the cold stone floor. In her mind she could still see it, the way the fire lit from those endless eyes, the howl of the dark in the shadow of its body. Even the coppery scent of blood magic and the sick smell of red lyrium lingered in her nostrils. When she had finished retching, she collapsed back onto her knees and found her hands were shaking.

"What was that?" Melori whispered to the silent room before levering herself to her feet and grabbing the bucket, carrying it to the privy outside and emptying it. As she was turning to go back up the stair to the kitchen, she heard the jingling of bridles and the stamping of horse's hooves. The Inquisitor and her party had returned. Melori let the bucket drop and climbed the stairs back to the kitchen and grabbed some water and a few apples along the way. The ground seemed unsteady as she traced a path back to the Study to find Dorian sitting groggily up on the cot, his usually immaculate hair standing up on one side.

"You made the most awful sounds just now," he told her as he stretched.

"The Inquisitor is back," she told him.

"Wonderful. Back to the field with us, then."

"Most likely the Emerald Graves this time," she agreed, dropping onto the cot beside him. "Dorian?"

"Hmm?" he glanced over at her, one of his brows lifting. "You look like death."

"Thank you, I appreciate the observation," she answered, drily. "I wanted to ask you ... about spirits."

"What about them?" He asked, standing and looking for the mirror they kept in the desk which, once found, was put to good use helping him tame his hair and mustache.

"Is it possible for a ... helpful spirit to follow a mage around outside the Fade? Without possessing them?"

"Of course. If it ..." he paused and gave her his full attention. "What's going on?"

"Cole says I have a 'friend' who has been 'helping' me since my Harrowing," She explained. "That Halla I told you I saw in the Wastes? The 'friend'. Apparently, I'm close to knowing something it's been trying to tell me for years. According to Cole, I mean."

"It would have to be a very determined entity to have crossed the Veil without possessing you," he answered. "You've never noticed its presence?"

"No, and no one else but Cole has, either, to my knowledge. Well, maybe Morrigan's son did," she rubbed at her eyes tiredly. "I suppose I need to talk to Solas about it ..."

"Before you talk to anyone, I would recommend a bath," the Tevinter mage smirked. "Death does not become you, my friend."

"Prat." she muttered, throwing a pillow at him.

"Now now," Dorian chuckled, batting it away. "Do watch the face. My ancestors spent a great deal of time and effort creating such perfection!"

"I am going to read Sister Bernice's _Lessons of Propriety_ to you the entire way to the Graves," Melori threatened direly, "Just you wait!"

"No! Anything but another Chantry sister!" He gasped.

* * *

.

NOTE II:_ Tel dirth, da'fen. Na din'da'reth. My own concoction, so ... it's not likely right. Anyway, it's meant to mean something like "Don't speak / tell secrets, little wolf. You are not safe / in a safe place".  
_


	32. Chapter 32

_"He used to say that he never felt the hardness of the human struggle or  
the sadness of history as he felt it among those ruins. He used to say, too,  
that it made one feel an obligation to do one's best." _

~ Willa Cather,_ The Song of the Lark_.

.

* * *

Writing the final report to give to Leliana detailing what, exactly, they hoped to find in the Emerald Graves and what resources would be required to find it was the sort of work that took all her concentration. They would need scholars, camping supplies, guards, excavation tools - probably, and any variety of other things. That the group would have to work at remarkable speed meant having everything immediately to hand, which was both expensive and necessary. Fortunately, the Inquisitor had filled the coffers of Skyhold so full that expense was no longer a question - quite a different situation from their days in Haven.

"_Ma falon?" _

She jerked, startled. Dorian had disappeared with the Inquisitor sometime earlier in the day, leaving her alone in the study for the first time a week and she hadn't expected the interruption, despite having requested a moment when the other mage had time. "Ah ... _Andaran Atish'an, _Solas," She squeaked, turning to look at him. He was leaning against the shelves, eying her with a small smile.

"Please tell me you don't _enjoy_ startling me near to death?"

"But that would be inaccurate," he replied, chuckling.

Stretching a little, she shook her head. "You're far too quiet on your feel, prowling about with that knowing look you have."

"I found the note you left." He said.

"Ah," Melori stood and paced around the limits of the room, pausing at the edge of the cot and turning back again. "Cole ... and Morrigan's son Kieran have both told me something that frightens me. Given your experience with spirts and the Fade, I thought you would know what I should do."

"This has all the hallmarks of a long tale," he answered.

"Perhaps? According to Cole, I apparently have my own ... um ... companion of sorts." The words tangled a bit as she rushed the end. "I ... It's ..." she waved a hand in the air. "I don't know where to begin."

He was giving her a look she hadn't seen since she'd been wandering Haven in those early days, denying her existence as a mage and insisting, despite all evidence, that she was no more than a librarian. "Perhaps you should start at the beginning."

"My Harrowing. It was odd. I was told that, normally, the mage will meet a demon to test them, but ... I didn't. I saw nothing more than the Black City above and an empty space around me," Melori answered, stopping her pacing and turning to look at him. "I walked a little and came upon a white, gleaming spirit who asked me if I would talk to him a while. No demons at all, that I could tell. So I sat with him and we had a marvelous conversation. He never once offered me anything or tried to get me to _do_ anything. When I woke I was perfectly fine. Except, I had it in my head that I could hide ... that I could make myself invisible if I were agreeable, if I were quiet and did what I was told, if I focused on anything but magic. That was not my idea."

"I take it you believe this spirit is still with you?" He asked.

"Morrigan's son said I had a 'bright light' behind me, but that it hid when I tried to look for it." She leaned back against the desk, crossing her arms over her chest. "Cole said it wanted me to understand something, that I was very close to knowing some important secret. He also said that this spirit was the Halla I saw in the Wastes, the one that tried to lead me to safety ... and that it had been helping me for a long time."

"Curious," he said. "A spirit with enough will and purpose can cross the Fade if they are powerful enough, though most do not enjoy the static world outside the Fade. I would imagine it is a spirit of purpose or wisdom. Though ... it could be something rarer." He paused, glancing at her. "Have you tried to speak to it?"

"I ... no," She felt herself flushing, embarrassed, "I wasn't sure what to do. Between that, the dragon, and the old woman who _told_ me to follow the Halla ... I'm not sure what to do. And it seems to hide from me when I try to find it."

"I will look for him," he promised. "I think we can safely say he means you no harm. I imagine it is nothing more than a wisdom spirit, seeking to guide you along your way."

"_Ma serranas, _Solas," she rubbed at her forehead and wondered what Hugh would have made of her 'companion, probably not a good reaction, given his calling. "I had better finish this so I can give it to Leliana before the day is gone."

* * *

In some ways, she had expected the Emerald Graves to be like the Brecillian Forest - twisting, sinister, and dark. Friendly only to the elves who traveled in their aravels, so long as they stayed to the paths they knew and did not wander into the dark places or abandoned places. Instead, they arrived on well trod roads, passing fine houses set in parks surrounded by high walls. Statues of Andraste stood interspersed throughout the wood at regular intervals with plaques proclaiming the great holiness of the Exalted March that had brought the elves of Halamshiral to ruin.

Standing beneath the high arching branches of the trees - the _Vallasdahlen _or Life Trees planted in remembrance of the fallen Dalish warriors of old - she couldn't help but feel that Andraste had no place here. That the 'bride of the Maker' wouldn't have wanted to be a reminder of defeat among the remnants of a people who had helped her fight against the Tevinter Empire so long ago. The arrogance and insult of the statues turned her stomach and Melori remembered what Brother Genitivi had told her once, several years before: "_Walk beneath the Vallasdahlen with reverence; remember that each of them once had a name_.*"

"The gall of it," she said aloud, staring at the imposing, emotionless stone face above her. "Even if you were someone great and wonderful, they've twisted you to suit their own purposes and to harm ... so many lives."

"Er ... Librarian?" Varric said, eying her from across the path. They'd stopped for a bite to eat at the crossroads, and it was probably fortunate that Cassandra was out of earshot.

"Oh," the librarian turned away from the statue, holding her journal to her chest. "Sorry, Varric. I find this particular location to be stirring a bit of ..." she paused, thinking of how to put it.

"Rage?" Solas asked, leaning on his staff and smiling a little.

"Indeed." Melori answered, a little more sharply than she'd intended. "Histories are not written by those who are dead, and the living either believe themselves justified or wish to appear less monstrous than they actually were. In the case of the Exalted Marches? Neither side was without fault, but the Orlesians were making a land grab for strategic territory. As well as negating a threat before it turned its attentions toward them. Not that the Dalish helped matters at all, they refused to negotiate or receive ambassadors."

"I see," Varric nodded thoughtfully. "So they were as stubborn as you are?"

"I'm sorry," Melori shook her head, pinching at the bridge of her nose. "This is a little more overwhelming than I anticipated - being here, I mean. The history is ... thick in the air."

"And the Fade is quite thin," Solas observed. "Which may explain the effect it is having on you."

"The more we learn about the history of Thedas, the less I like it," the dwarf replied, shifting Bianca higher in his arms. "We're almost to the camp. Her Inquisitorialness said they found evidence of the site you were looking for, as well as an infestation of giants nearby."

"Giants?" Melori's eyes went wide as she gathered Tempest's reins and managed, barely, to jump up high enough to puller herself into the saddle the first time. If only she'd stolen a _shorter_ horse, but he shook his mane and snorted at her, hopping a little, and she sighed. He'd begun to grow on her and she had begun to see that he wasn't fussing so much as showing off when he bounced around.

"Giants," Varric confirmed once Melori was firmly in the saddle. "So, your options are this: go in covertly or wait for the Inquisitor to do what she's good at around here before we head that way. Oh, yeah, there's also a dragon."

Melori turned Tempest in a tight circle, sighing, "Well, there _had_ to be a dragon, else it wouldn't be a proper disaster."

* * *

"Oh, Maker help us," one of the scholars gasped as they made their way between the trees, the ground shaking beneath their feet. Melori turned and shot a warning look at the other woman, who abruptly clamped her lips tight. They'd been in the upper areas of the forest for several hours, following the Inquisitor's company past the _nest_ of giants. Having read about them did nothing to prepare for the sight of the creatures, unnerving with their tusks, massive limbs, and hollow eyes. Those, on top of the occasionally terrifying cries of the nearby dragon did nothing to set any of them at ease.

It had fallen to Melori to guide them through the forest, Bull following up at the rear with Varric and Dorian keeping to the side. Fortunately, all she had to do was follow the Inquisitor's group, otherwise they'd have been hopelessly lost in the first five minutes. She could hear the sound of fighting forward of their position, the distinctive sound of clashing blades and mage fire filling the air. It was astonishing that the giants hadn't latched onto it and come running, but they seemed oblivious to anything that wasn't in their direct field of vision. Sadly, there were enough of the creatures that it was difficult to avoid.

"Steady on," Bull rumbled. "Ribbons, get ready for trouble."

She turned and gestured to the scouts and scholars. These were not unseasoned people and they knew how to get out of the way of a blade, a spell, or even a giant's maul. If they hadn't, they'd not have survived long enough to get this assignment. "If we fall, find the Inquisitor ahead of us. Do _not_ risk yourselves."

Serida, a former Chantry scholar she'd known from the Archive, gave her a worried look. "What about you, Enara?"

"Don't worry about me," Melori answered, watching as Bull and Varric moved to face the shadow rapidly moving toward them through the trees. "Move! It's coming."

Giants were not easy to kill. The huge mauls the creatures swung at their heads were incredibly deadly, even if they didn't hit anyone directly. Debris went every which way when the things crashed into the ground, and the impact concussion was enough to toss everyone off their feet. The Inquisitor and her group finished killing their own giant to come back through the woods to help kill the new one. Eventually, they brought the creature to its knees and Bull was able to wade close enough to kill it.

They were all bruised and bloody when it was done, but the rest of the group was safe and alive. The Inquisitor turned toward them all and pointed, "That way. Now. We can't take much more of this."

So they ran, quietly as they could, sliding down the mossy incline toward the ruins just visible through the trees. Melori managed to hit every stray root and tree branch she encountered, cursing fluently in at least four languages as they moved. Trying to keep an eye on her charges was making it hard to watch her footing.

"Damn, Ribbons," Bull chuckled after she took another dive and erupted into further cursing. He hefted her up by the back of her armor and sat her back on her feet. "You'll have to teach me some of those."

"I doubt I said anything you can't say better," she answered as they finally reached the edges of the broken walls and arches that made up Elgar'nan's Bastion.

* * *

"_Din'an Hanin_," Melori said, looking around at the dead elves scattered across the ground. The words she spoke had been in the notes they'd gathered, some of which had come from the elves lying dead at their feet. "The dwellng of the dead?"

"They didn't know what hit them," Varric muttered, making his way among between the burnt husks that had once been elves. The bruise across his jaw gave his dour expression a surly cast. "Whatever it was is still inside."

"Venatori and Red Templars." Cassandra said, hands on her hips. "Red lyrium here, but not much."

"This was fairly recent, too," Bull commented. "They haven't been in there long."

"We'll head in first, then the second group, and then the researchers as we clear each area," the Inquisitor ordered. "With luck, they haven't got far into the ruin."

Melori nodded and went back to where the scholars were organizing the equipment. The scouts were on the walls, keeping watch. "Did you hear?" she asked.

"We did," Serida and the others nodded, grim-faced at the sight the murdered Dalish. They'd all seen too much death over the many months since the Breach opened over the Temple of Sacred Ashes. "The bastards never gave these a chance, did they?"

"No," Melori shook her head, her arms folded tightly over her chest. "They never do."

"We're ready to go inside at the Inquisitor's call," Serida said, her jaw set.

"Good. It's likely to be worse inside, and who knows what the native dangers might be," Melori answered. "Do not risk yourselves if you can avoid it. We're going to need all of us if we hope to find what we need."

They followed her over to where the others were waiting. The Inquisitor pushed open the doors and led the way inside with Cassandra, Solas, and Blackwall on her heels. Dorian, Bull, and Varric waited with Melori and the scholars just outside, only moving in when they heard the all clear ahead.

* * *

The Inquisition dead were scattered around the interior of the broken, shattered building. They had not been dead long, nor had they suffered the complete immolation of the Dalish outside the gate, but to see them lying broken and silent among the ruined architecture in their Inquisition tabards was enough to cause the entire party to grow silent. The Inquisitor and her party went on ahead while the rest waited, the sound of fighting echoing back to them.

One of the scholars found a plaque broken from a fallen statue as they passed through, that read:

_Curse the past - the place where lies were born.  
For beneath their sun, our people fall.  
The lands their lady once bestowed now stolen in her name.  
So when these words are read, we shall be gone.**_

"Left by the Emerald Knights," Dorian remarked over his shoulder.

"Does that mean this place was built by them, or is it earlier?" Melori asked. "The chances of us finding what want here are lessened if it was built after the Long Walk and the founding of Halamshiral. The statues of Fen'Harel appear to be of an early origin."

"It is entirely possible they built this structure on the remains of an older one. Perhaps the Temple of Elgar'nan," Serida answered.

"Possibly," Melori said, lifting her head as the sound of fighting died and the all clear was given again. "Come on. I think we'll find out soon enough."

* * *

Eventually they managed to clear the ruin of the Venatori and the Red Templars, the scholars spreading out along the upper sections while the armored parties moved down into the lower sections, following the path of destruction the Venatori had left behind them. Without care for anything but making their way as quickly as possible from one point to another, they had broken through walls and created their own passageways.

The boulders that the Exalted March had sent crashing into the structure so many years before had not been enough, Melori thought. The Venatori had had to do even more damage ... and it was difficult to see it without becoming angrier. More difficult to know that they were shedding blood and that the Inquisition soldiers had died to find and secure this place. She only hoped that it would be worth their efforts.

* * *

.

*from _In Pursuit of Knowledge: The Travels of a Chantry Scholar_ by Brother Genitivi

**from a statue in game.

NOTE: _Hand waving the necessity of getting in good with the Dalish in the Exalted Plains for this one, since it would involve having everyone travel there and then back again and ... that would screw up the timing a bit. :D_


	33. Chapter 33

NOTE: _A lot of the information I'm using in this chapter is both lore heavy and speculation heavy. The speculation comes from the Solas discussion and fan thread on the Bioware forums and several Tumblrs I follow. I'm just weaving it into the story because most of it is based on obtainable lore in the form of codexes and written information or is observable (in the form of art styles, etc. that cross from game to game quite often)._

* * *

_._

"_A book lying idle on a shelf is wasted ammunition."  
~ _ Henry Miller, _The Books in My Life _

_._

* * *

It took them four days to find a way down into the Tomb. While the scholars searched the environs and cataloged their findings, the Inquisitor took the others with her to deal with the dragon and to thin out the giants. Dorian and Melori worked to find a way into the depths of _Din'an Hanin_, hoping to find anything that would help lead them to what Corypheus was after there.

They'd found enough items of note that Melori ran out of room in her journal, the second she'd been keeping since arriving at Haven. She'd had to start a new book, sketching the various murals and making note of the giant medallions on the walls that looked rather like ... frog heads.

"That looks familiar," she told Dorian, staring at the strange face, "But I can't remember where I've seen it."

"It looks like something that friend of Varric's sent us," he said, paging through his own notes. His were, she was pleased to observe, as chaotic as her own with notations in the margins, sketches, and long paragraphs interspersed with spell diagrams. "Here it is," he said, running his finger over the small, neat writing. He paused. "That can't be right."

"What do you mean?"

"Mmm, see the face of the idol? It's very nearly the same, I think. And she said she believes it's an altar to the old god, the dragon Dumat. That's a Tevinter deity, you know - the one Corypheus worshipped," he looked up at the medallion frown deepening. "What is it doing _here_?"

"There are statues of Mythal, of Fen'harel, and of Andruil's owl," Melori said, crossing her arms and staring up at the strange face. "There's a mosaic, too, but it's definitely elven, unlike this ... unless this_ is_ elven."

"Is it one of the Forgotten Ones?" Dorian said quietly. "I realize that's something of a heresy for the Dalish, but ..."

"What could have moved them to worship one of the Forgotten Ones?" Melori shook her head. "This is not what I expected to find here. There were cults worshipping those gods, but one would not have imagined the Emerald Knights to have been one of them. Still ... " her thoughts turned the statues of Andraste littering the Emerald Graves with reminders of the destruction of everything the Dalish had built. "If you knew your people were on the brink of annihilation ..."

"I would do anything," Dorian finished for her. "Everything."

"Enara!" Serida rounded the corner, breathing a little heavily. "We've found the tomb and Jerald's figured out how to get it open. All those bits of green ceramic we've been finding? Well, he figured out how to fit them together."

"That was fast." Melori glanced at Dorian. "Perhaps we'll learn more below?"

"I admit," he said as they began to follow Serida down the hall, "I'm not sure I want to know what they were up to."

"I know what you mean," she answered as they headed down to the large, locked door located beneath the main structure. The other scholars were standing in a half-circle in front of the door, Jerald waiting with the key medallion in his hand.

"Remember," Melori said, "Once it's opened, let us go in first. We all know how these things can go."

"Considering the nest of spiders I woke the last time I was first into a tomb, I'm perfectly fine letting the mages go first," an older fellow named Harmon said happily enough. "Barely got out of there with my life, last time."

"So, Jerald," Dorian said. "Show us what you can do."

* * *

Melori and Dorian stared across from the door to the gleaming blue light in the lap of the strange looking idol and made almost the same sound of dismay. Serida and the others entered slowly behind them, staves and short swords at the ready.

"That," Melori nodded toward the idol. "From what we can tell given information we received out of Kirkwall, that is an idol related to Dumat. One like it was found in Corypheus cell in the Warden Prison."

"And above it, look," Dorian said. "That dragon on the railing. Could have come out of a temple in Minrathous."

"Which means, unless this was built on an far older ruin, it's unlikely that we'll find an eluvian here," Melori said, shaking her head. "There are elements that seem to indicate that the Dalish of Halamshiral built on top of an older ruin, but ... I think there must not have been much left. And this ... " she shook her head, eying the idol speculatively. "What were they doing? If it is Dumat, were they worshipping the Forgotten Gods, as well? or did they carry on the religion of Tevinter?"

Dorian nodded thoughtfully, walking toward one of the pillars where a veil fire brazier was affixed, "This will either show us some of the secrets of the tomb or ... " He lit it with quiet deliberation. There was a flare of power and Melori heard the shift of bones against stone as undead began to climb out of the nearby tombs or lift themselves from piles of bones. "Ah, it looks as though there are no runes to call here, simply the dead. _Din'an Hanin_, indeed."

"Wait ..." Melori began and then had to duck as one of the dead swung at her and she began casting frantically. The scholars were already engaging the creatures who got past her, and she heard magic blazing across the space from Dorian. The dead soon fell and moved no more, leaving the scholars panting and winded while the two mages eyed one another. "I think the rest of you ought to get behind the door. There are three more torches."

"Good idea," Jerald said and they all hurried back, weapons ready. When they were in position, Dorian moved to the next torch and lit it.

"Dammit," Melori muttered, as the unearthly chill and deathly power of a revenant flared to life, and she slammed her staff into the ground, the storm energy knocking the corpses back against the walls while Dorian began setting the creatures on fire. Melori let her staff fall to the ground and drew her sword as the revenant closed with her, blocking its blade with her own. The closer the creature got, the weaker she felt, and she staggered, drawing on her magic to keep herself upright. The fade was thin here and she pulled on its power, barely avoiding a shield slam as she summoned lightning to stun it ... which hurt it, but did nothing to give it pause.

"Stay back!" She yelled, finding herself pulled forward by the thing's energy, barely able to avoid skewering herself on the rusted blade. She found herself slamming into it instead, bouncing off the shield and sprawling across the floor. It strode toward her, unearthly eyes gleaming with red light, and Melori crawled backward on her hands, petrified by the power in that empty gaze. But before it could strike at her again, blue energy wrapped around it and fire began licking up its body. Melori scrambled upright as the thing gave an unearthly, terrifying howl and turned toward Dorian, lurching across the tmob. She began to strike at its back and sides until it fell in a heap of bone, rotted flesh, and ancient armor to the floor.

"Well," said Dorian, leaning on his staff. "Perhaps you should light the torches while I face the resulting undead?"

"A good plan," She panted. "That rather hurt. I'm beginning to wish we could have borrowed Cassandra."

"Nonsense," he laughed. "You have _me_."

There were two more veil fire braziers, but they were ready now as Dorian lit them one by one, and the dead fell, their weapons clattering to the stones. When they were finished, he turned toward the door and gave a deep bow to the scholars just beyond it. "It is now safe to enter."

"Oh," one of the older scholars, a woman named Dina, said as they entered. "That was exciting! Normally, that's the part where I run away as fast I am able."

"We should look for an artifact of power," Melori said, smiling. "If there is one here, it may be hidden in a back passage or even some secret space."

The scholars searched the tomb from top to bottom, noting the strange statuary and the scroll describing what had occurred at Red Crossing to trigger the Exalted March of the Chantry against the Dales. Melori read it aloud to the company and found herself having to sit down. There were murmurs of shock and sadness when she finally got to the end.

"Even that was false," she muttered when she had passed the scroll to Serida. "The entire Exalted March was based on a misunderstanding. Possibly part of the Game and backed by the Chantry."

"If there was ever an artifact here," Serida said, dusting off her robes. "It's long gone, I'm afraid."

"A dead end." Melori sighed. "At least we know now."

* * *

They sealed the tomb and the main doors to _Din'an Hanin_ before the day was done, their journals full of notes and sketches, and their bags full of what few artifacts seemed important. Once they'd reached camp, the group of them had presented their findings and conclusions to the Inquisitor, and she had taken the tale of Red Crossing, given the controversy it would no doubt cause, to decide what to do with it. Melori was hoping she'd give it to the elves, considering, but Cassandra thought the Chantry would make better use of it.

"They'd only bury it in an archive," Melori sighed to Serida over a bowl of hot soup. "It's too controversial."

"What difference would it make?" the other scholar asked, stirring her soup to cool it. "Halamshiral and the Dales fell so long ago, knowing the truth wouldn't have much effect would it?"

"It might help the elves and their standing with the Chantry," Melori answered. "It might make people question what they believe to be true. Isn't that valuable?"

They ate for a while in silence. The researchers with a general sense of disappointment, though, to be fair, they were used to it. Anytime an expedition was mounted with specific goal, the risk of disappointment was high. Most of them had become very good at ignoring the prospect of never finding what they sought or finding something that set all their previously held assumptions upside down.

Melori thought about the idols of Dumat and frowned, considering the carvings and the patterns on the idol's body. Similar patterns adorned the statutes of Fen'harel at the entrance to the Tomb - though that could be coincidence, an accident of style. Her own assumptions were in turmoil. In some ways, not having been among her own people for the majority of her life, she'd made a myth of them, believed the best of them - though logic and study proved that the Dalish were not what she wanted them to be. It was hard to accept that she had come from people who had been so … fallible.

* * *

Darkness falls quickly in the forest. The trees above them creaked and swayed in the wind, and Melori tilted her head to listen. Most of the others had retired to their tents, but it was proving difficult to shake the melancholy. She lifted a finger and drew a rune into the air in front of her, watching as the fire leaned nearer and flickered a little higher.

"Hey, Librarian," Varric dropped down beside her and sighed, reaching into his pocket for a flask.

"Hey, Varric," she dropped her hand. "We haven't talked in a while. Not since Adamant." Her throat closed a little on the last word and she sighed.

"Want a drink?" he asked, passing her the flask. She nodded and tilted it to her lips, feeling the smooth burn of what had to be some of the best liquor in Thedas. Her eyes widened and she looked down at the flask in surprise.

"This is not the usual poison."

"Inquisitor gave me the bottle of Mackay's," he said, staring into the fire. "After Hawke … well …"

She'd heard that Hawke had perished in the Fade, that she'd sacrificed herself against an immense Fear Demon. Melori closed her eyes and handed the flask back to him. "Varric … I …"

"Don't," he shook his head. "Just thought you might want company."

"Always," she said, clearing her throat a little and blinking back a sudden rise of tears. "Heh … She was brilliant, like a light in the distance, always beckoning."

"Yeah," he nodded, "Did I tell you about the time she and Isabela stole an Antivan merchant's ship and sailed it around the coast? Drunk off their asses, both of them."

"If you share the MacKay's, I'd love to hear it," she laughed, and he gave her a crooked grin.

"Well …"

* * *

They were breaking camp when the ravens arrived. Melori ducked into the Inquisitor's tent to pass the communications over and to see if anything needed to be sent. She was about to leave when the Inquisitor said, "Oh. There's a letter for you."

"What?" Melori blinked, surprised. "A letter for me?"

"Yes," The Inquisitor smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she handed the small envelope over. "You look so shocked."

"Well, it's the first time I've received a letter since ... well ... I can't remember the last time someone wrote to me," Melori laughed, taking the folded paper in her hand. "Thank you."

"Are you doing all right?"

She paused, tucking the letter into her belt to be read as soon as she was able. "As well as can be. I try not to think about things, to be honest. Though, I probably ought to be asking _you_ that question."

The Inquisitor laughed and shook her head, lifting the hand with the anchor and turning it. "I won't know how to answer till this is over."

Melori took the other messages and sent the ravens back to Skyhold with the more urgent messages, then gave the rest to one of the scouts. When she was done, all that remained was to make sure her gear was properly stowed and a relatively private place to claw her way into the saddle.

"I need to talk to Dennet about installing a rope ladder," she told Tempest when she'd finally scrambled onto his back.

They were several miles down the road before she had a chance to pull the letter out from her belt and open the envelope. To her surprise, the stationary inside was covered, front and back, with neat, precise handwriting. She flipped it over and her brows lifted to see it signed _C.R._ at the bottom in the same hand.

_Enara,_

_You were not in your study or the library, of course, and, as I cannot sleep, I have borrowed some of your parchment and a pen to write to you. It is better than the alternative, and you did offer me company when things grow difficult. So here it is. I have finished reading the book you recommended me. I enjoyed the author's descriptions of his life in combat and found his observations regarding command strategy to be enlightening. However, when I asked for another like it, none of the current staff knew quite where to guide me. I shall require your help in that regard when you return._

_I have tried seeking company in the castle on bad nights; however, there are a great many Orlesians here now, many of them having attended the ball at the Winter Palace. Their company is not enjoyable, despite Madame de Fer's suggestion that I find a way to tolerate it. Josephine has managed to run them off, but they are damnably persistent. Tell Dorian I owe him three gold. He was right. They followed me back to Skyhold as he said they would._

_Cole keeps sending me letters via the castle messengers, but by the time they reach me, the messenger has forgotten who sent them. I have had to instruct him to stop sending me messages that make no sense. He hasn't quite grasped the concept yet, though I live in hope. We'll see if it works, I suppose._

_I have thought of something that might please you. As you were learning the game on the boat back to Ferelden, I thought you might like to continue. I'll play black and the first move is D2 to D4. I will await your response either in person or by letter._

_Well, there is the first bell. The light is coming over the mountains and I can hear people moving about now. Thank you for keeping me company. I have borrowed one of the books from your study - a discussion on the military tactics used by the Alamarri._

_Maker watch over you all,  
C.R._

She turned it over and re-read the letter again, smiling a little at the image of the Commander having to fight off the attentions of a horde of Orlesians in the Great Hall. Hopefully they wouldn't be too grabby with him, she thought, laughing aloud, which earned her a few looks from her fellow travelers.

"Oh, a letter from an admirer?" Dorian asked, reaching with nimble fingers to snatch the parchment from her grasp.

"Not at all," Melori rolled her eyes. "I helped the Commander find a book to read and he .. well, he wrote to me about it"

"Ah! He owed me money!" Dorian crowed. "He would not admit it, but I am _always_ correct in such matters. Poor man, he must be fighting them off now."

"He does seem beleaguered," she agreed. "Which means we should find what we seek and get back to Skyhold. He may need a rescue."

"We shall save him from the Orlesians! Like heroes from one of Varric's books," Dorian chuckled.

* * *

.

NOTE II: _I am sorry this took so long to post. I wrote it, then I rewrote. Then the computer ate it. So I rewrote it again. I've written this chapter 3 times now. And I'm done with it. So. I may have to edit in the morning, but here it is._

NOTE III: _We'll get to the Companion Spirit soon, I promise : )_


	34. Chapter 34

NOTE: _So you know all those times you come across a company of less powerful  
types having been attacked in the game? Here you go!_

* * *

_._

"_If you are paralyzed with fear, that's a good sign.  
It shows you what you have to do."  
_~ Unknown

.

* * *

Wind whipped across the plains, tossing the trees and turning the grasses into a symphony of whispers. The Exalted Plains were dry and dusty, full of smoke and mist from the nearby battlements and nearly empty of life in that area, though things were better by the water and where the elves were camping. They'd camped near to the elves, who were grateful for the truth about Red Crossing and all the Inquisitor had done to help them.

Melori spent most of her days crawling over ancient elven sites, looking for glyphs that _might_ give them a clue to an important site. She had several scholars, a handful of soldiers, and a few scouts with her on the north side of the plains while Dorian had a group about a mile away. The area was large enough that they'd had to split up, keeping at least one mage with each group so that the veil fire torches could be lit and the glyphs uncovered. This was the tedious part of the work, trying to find the interesting bits left behind, and searching for a specific object made everything even more difficult.

Fortunately, it had not been a vain effort. Out of four glyphs, the Inquisitor and her group had found one while Melori and Dorian had each found another. With one left, they circled the area several times, carrying veil fire torches around any ruins they'd come across and even digging out an old crypt, which was where Melori was now, having climbed through a narrow tunnel till she'd reached the dark space beyond, a veil fire torch held before her into the dark.

The green light lit the small space, but there came no welcome ringing of crystal as the glyph activated. All she could see was the outline of an ancient sarcophagus and a few pieces of funerary pottery to either side of the small room - interesting in their own way, if she had had time to really study them. She sagged and wondered if she would ever have enough time to write a reply to Commander Cullen, much less study more ruins. At this rate, they'd be in the Exalted Plaines for another week looking for a single, solitary glyph that the Creator knew she couldn't find.

"There's nothing here," She called out toward the others, backing out of the shallow tunnel on her hands and knees. No answer. "Serida? Jerald?"

As she came closer to the opening of the tunnel, she heard a strange sound, like a whimper, and paused, trying to see over her shoulder. But the tunnel became dark as someone moved across the entrance and rough hands seized her legs and began to pull her out. Melori yelped and scrabbled for a grasp on the stone beneath her, dropping the torch. She kicked and twisted, and heard someone curse, "_Fasta vas!_" and her heart sped up – Venatori!

One of them had a firm grip on her ankle and began jerking her backward with all the strength he had. She hissed and kicked harder with her free foot and heard a pained grunt. The hands loosened and she twisted free, crawling forward as fast as she could. Someone shouted and she heard the mutter of a spell behind her, and shouted her own to counter it. One of her feet went suddenly stiff and cold, but she'd avoided the rest of the spell in time.

Turning onto her back with an effort in the narrow passage, she lifted her hands and began to cast a spell, power building and exploding out the tunnel, which eliminated her enemies, but also collapsed the fragile earth above her. Loose stones and plains dirt fell on top of her in a rush.

Melori coughed and spat, trying to dig her way up, concentrating her energy to give herself more strength, ready to fight the moment she escaped. Hands delved down into the dirt and something grabbed her hair. She could hear them shouting in _Tevene_, and struggled, but it was impossible to breathe with all the dirt around her face and she became disoriented.

When her head cleared the debris, she had barely enough time to suck in a lungful of air before she was grabbed and thrown to the ground, skidding across the ancient paving stones until she hit a wall. Her head rang with the impact, but Melori forced herself to move. She could see a dead Venatori mage to one side, and there were armored men ahead, though she didn't take the time to count. Bringing her hands together, Melori drew her power between her palms, a ball of cracking, snapping lightning taken rapid shape as she concentrated.

She heard their consternation and felt the pressure against her power as they began to run forward. A pressure she released as she opened her hands and they all flew back. Melori climbed to her feet, spitting out blood and dirt, and wished with everything in her she was still wearing her armored jacket – removed so she could climbing around in the ruin. Barely pausing for breath, she turned to cast another spell and –

"I'd not continue that if you don't wish your throat slit," a slick, accented voice whispered in her ear, the press of cold metal against her throat.

Melori froze in place, hands dropping to her sides.

"Good, good," the rogue chuckled, removing the knife and reaching around to jerk her hands back behind her back. His gloves were spelled, she realized, which was why he hadn't been affected by the energy still cracking off her fingertips. "Now," he said, tying her hands in a leather cord with quick efficiency. "We can do this one of three ways: you either walk along on your own, one of my friends here carries you, or we shove you back into that grave - permanently. The choice is yours."

"I'll walk," Melori answered, her voice rough from the dirt, trying to catch sight of Serida, Jerald, or one of the others. _Mythal, please_, She prayed. _Don't let them have come to harm._

"A wise choice," he said, pushing her forward toward the men in the armor. Melori gritted her teeth as she stumbled, her head still swimming and beginning to ache.

They drew back when she came closer and she saw beyond to where Serida and Dina were sitting against the stones, their hands bound behind their backs. Jerald was lying to one side, his eyes and face blank, blood pooling beneath him. Her fingers clenched behind her and she swallowed hard. Around the perimeter of the ruin, she could see other dead, could smell the blood on the air. Her stomach clenched and she nearly fell. This was her fault. She'd been in charge of these people, their blood was on her hands.

"Now," their captor said, jerking her upright by twisting her arm till she cried out. "Your colleagues tried to tell us you weren't here. We had to make an example of the old man, but these two … well, I think we need to make a decision about them."

"Let them go," Melori gasped, meeting Serida's eyes. They both knew their likely fate. "Just … please, let them go. They were only here to help."

"Sadly, I cannot do that," he answered. "You see, my master wishes me to bring anyone we can find who might have solved our little mystery to him, particularly if we found the Inquisition wandering about. And here you are! No, I think …," he stepped to the side and pushed her toward one of the armored figures, and she saw the slant of his eyes, the point of his ears, as he passed and Melori tried to shake free of the heavy hands that clamped down on her shoulders.

"Wait! Stop!"

But he leaned first over Serida and then over Dina, as though choosing the more likely of the two. She saw a flash of metal, the glitter of his blade, and the older woman slumped forward as she died. Serida made a broken sound and Melori jerked forward against the hands holding her.

"_Fenedhis lasa, elvhen'alas!_" she hissed, struggling toward the other elf, but he was pulling Serida to her feet, his unmarked face smiling at Melori.

"Now, that's hardly polite," he said. "We will be traveling together for a little while, you know. It would be better if we kept things civil."

* * *

Melori and Serida were taken down to the riverside where they were held until a boat was readied at the docks. They were then bundled into the center of a long fishing boat, the armored men at one end, the other elf at the prow, facing the two prisoners. While they were casting off, he was distracted, however, and Serida took the moment to whisper to Melori.

"I heard them say that Ser Dorian was taken. He found the other glyph," she paused, then added. "I've almost got my hands free."

Melori stared at the other elf, thinking rapidly. The boat tilted as they pushed off and she sucked in her breath, the water seeming dark and very deep beneath them, but before she could give in to her usual terror of the water something flickered against her ear, like the energy of the fade where the veil was thin, and she thought suddenly of tilting boats and deep water, of armor and – her breath caught and she whispered to Serida, "Can you swim?"

"Yes."

"Good," Melori said, glaring at the elf when he gave them a speculative look. He smirked and leaned back, his expression smug. Behind her, where her hands were clasped and tied, she summoned a small flame, clenching her jaw as it burned through the bindings. She'd done it quickly, enough so that it had gone unremarked - though that quickness had resulted in a painful burn on her wrist. They were over the deep water when the leather fell away and she shoved her hands down toward the bottom of the boat, summoning a bolt of lightning as she did so.

The other elf yelled and threw himself at her, but energy was already tearing down through the sky and struck the boat in the center, the entire thing breaking apart beneath them. Cold river water surged upward and everyone on board found themselves falling into the depths. The other elf had his arms around her, dragging her down, and she resisted, trying to fight back, to get back to the air. For a moment they struggled, and then he threw her away from him and she plummeted into the current.

The water caught at her, pulling and tugging, dragging her down. In the murk she saw one of the warriors sinking quickly past her, twitching and struggling to no avail - his armor too heavy. She kicked harder, using her hands to guide her upward, but her lungs _burned_ and her clothes were heavy … the world narrowed to a single point, she could feel her mouth open to scream … the water came in … there was a ringing in her ears. Her hands lifted toward the surface, toward the glowing, gleaming light that slid through the water toward her, and she fell into the the dark.

* * *

"The other one got away," one of the Venatori was saying in Tevene a while later. It was a familiar voice, but she wasn't able to process it. Her mind felt incredibly fuzzy and her stomach hurt. Rolling to her side she began to retch, her shoulders shaking as she heaved yet more river water out of her lungs - having been at it for a while already. They'd dragged her out of the river when she'd come up on the along the shore, half-conscious and coughing up water.

Footsteps approached and her hair was grabbed, yanked back, and the elf rogue glared into her face, his dagger at her throat. He was tall for an elf, with short-cropped, blonde hair and bright gray eyes full of fury. "You will pay for your trick on the boat."

She gazed up at him in exhaustion and kept silent, all her panic and fear having faded away in the depths of the river. He snarled and let go of her hair, stalking away. Melori curled onto her side, not even realizing she was lying on the bottom of a cart until it started moving. It occurred to her to wonder how she'd got out of the water… hadn't she been drowning? That her lungs were still trying to expel river water there was no doubt as she was coughing raggedly, painfully with every breath. Had Serida rescued her? She tried to remember, but couldn't quite get to it.

Her skin was like ice, her clothes sodden and sticking, already coated with dirt and debris. They hadn't bothered to tie her up this time and she hissed when she moved her hands, the burns on her wrists pulsing with pain. But she rolled over and sat up anyway, realizing as she did that the reason they hadn't tied her up was that the cart was also a cage.

"Lovely," she muttered, though this would get her closer to Dorian, surely, and the rogue elf's earlier words meant Serida had got away, as well. The only difficulty Melori could see was that she had no idea where they were headed and very little idea of how to get back. They hadn't killed her yet, which was worrying - not that she wanted to die. The problem was that she knew what Tevinter mages could do, and she did not want to experience that again. With any luck, Serida would be able to get back to the Dalish camp and tell the Inquisitor what had happened to them.

The day was darkening into evening, and the wind picked up, cooling her skin further and making her teeth chatter. It took but a moment to cast a warming spell and she felt a bit better, though her hair would dry with mud and every other kind of nastiness in it. Her head tilted back against the rails and she closed her eyes, exhaustion tugging at her till she fell into dreams.

* * *

Her study was lit with bright warm lights and the fire that crackled in the brazier. Melori sat at her desk, dressed in a soft, warm robe and her hair hanging loose down her back. The book in her lap was full of fine verses and pretty illustrations, and she turned the pages one by one, admiring the fine painting and line work.

"Melori?" a familiar voice said at the door, and she closed the book, and setting it on the desk before rising to meet the man who entered, her face wreathed in smiles.

"Hugh! I thought you would be away longer?" she gasped, running forward and laughing as he lifted her in his arms, his lips finding hers. "I missed you."

"I was only gone a little while," he answered, smiling up at her. "I brought you back a few more books and some ribbons for your hair."

"Thank you," she murmured, pressing her forehead to his, reveling in the feel of him. For some reason, her eyes pricked with tears at the sound of his voice and she wanted to bury her face in his chest and weep, but she couldn't think why - she'd never been happier. "Where did you go?"

"I visited Val Royeaux on my way home. It's amazing to see so many mages in the city now, with the Circles gone." He said, leaving soft kisses along her neck till she was sighing and shivering against him. "I thought we could move there someday, if you ever grow tired of Skyhold."

"To Val Royeaux and the middle of the Game?" She laughed and shook her head. "I don't think either of us would enjoy that. Skyhold is our home now."

"No more island in the Amaranthine Sea?" he asked, smiling up at her. "I rather liked that plan."

"We can always go there eventually," she replied, touching his face gently, ignoring the sorrow winging its way through her heart like one of Leliana's ravens. If she listened ... if she looked away ... it would all disappear. _He_ would disappear. "I miss you." Her voice broke on the words, spoken without thought. "Hugh ..."

"I love you," he whispered, kissing her again. He pressed her up against the bookshelves, his fingers sliding along the tips of her ears and wringing a soft moan from her. Melori wrapped her arms around his neck, wanting to be lost, to be safe, to ... tears fell down her face, her heart feeling as though it was breaking beneath the weight of Adamant again.

"I can't do this," Melori's eyes opened and she pushed back from him, fear rippling through her like a knife to the heart. The eyes that looked back at her were full of strange fires, and she shuddered, tears sliding down her face. "You're not him."

He sighed, one hand reaching up to touch her cheek, before releasing her. "I almost had you."

"Please, this is too cruel. If you are what I think you are, then you know this is not what I want."

"It was worth the attempt," the demon said, his form shifting before her eyes and the walls of her study melting around them into jagged stone and mist. The creature standing before her was nearly naked, his body a like a sculpture and his horns tilting elegantly over his head. "I can help you, you know. The friend you seek is alone among very dangerous men."

"I think your version of helping would end badly for me," Melori answered, standing her ground.

"Hmm," The demon eyed her speculatively. "I _could_ take you by force. But," he lifted a finger and smiled at her. "You will meet those men soon, and when you do, you may come to me of your own free will. I can wait a little longer."

The cart was stopped when Melori opened her eyes and saw the stars overhead through the trees. Her face was wet with tears and she scrubbed at them with her sleeve, leaving mud streaks across her cheeks. Wherever they were the Veil was thin here, thinner than it ever should have been. Which meant the ruin that that had required the glyphs was near to hand, she guessed, shutting her eyes tightly. And as though things weren't bad enough already, the scent of blood magic was on the air.

Something tickled at her left ear then, and she turned her head, opening her eyes to peer around. Something gleaming stood a little ways off, a speck of light that, for a moment she thought resembled an old elf in a keeper's robe. And then, as she took her next breath, it was gone.

* * *

.

NOTE II: _:D Had to throw in a demon temptation at some point!_


	35. Chapter 35

_And once again the question's asked  
I answer yes! but the moment's passed  
I'm guess I'm always tomorrow-bound  
How many more till I'm underground?  
_~ Kongos

.

* * *

The manor house stood on the edge of the forest, its gates creaking with age and rust when they opened to let the party inside. The house was decrepit and half-ruined, yet still elegant, standing in its own ruin as though it hadn't yet realized that its owners had abandoned it to war and decay. Melori, awake now, stared up at the pale walls as they loomed out of the dark, and wondered what lay inside. The cart halted in the overgrown yard and the Venatori set to unloading their gear. They spoke too quickly for her to easily understand what they were saying, though the way she was coughing, it was difficult to concentrate.

After a while, the rogue elf came to the cart and opened the door to the cage. They stared at one another, Melori not moving from the back of the cage and he obviously unwilling to go after her.

"I can leave you in here," he said, a pair of black manacles with a Templar symbol stamped into the cuffs swinging from his hand. "Though the others will be happy enough to crawl in with you, no matter how filthy you are. Some of the templars haven't seen a female in months and the red lyrium makes them hungrier. Of course, if you try anything, they'll kill you without a second thought. It's your choice."

Melori blanched at the thought and crawled forward to the end of the cart, wincing as he jerked her hands behind her and clicked the metal closed around her wrist. The blister that had formed on her left wrist protested, but she ignored it as best she could. He then pulled her off the end of the cart and onto her feet, dragging Melori along behind him through the yard. A few of the Venatori turned their heads as they passed, but no one spoke to them.

The rooms inside the dilapidated house had once been finely appointed, but now there were holes in some of the walls and the trees were pushing their way inside. Debris lay everywhere, piled in heaps and scattered across walkways, and likely still falling from crumbling structures. Crates and supplies were stacked in the corners, and there were fires built in a few of the fireplaces they passed, surrounded by cots and bedrolls. It was a staging camp, she thought in distraction as she took note of the apparent numbers and supplies she could see, yelping as he jerked her round a corner and through a tall door, her boot heels skidding on the damp tiles.

"Your accommodations," he sneered, shoving her into a bare room without windows, the lingering scent of herbs and onions heavy in the air. The door slammed behind him and she heard the click as he bolted it, leaving her standing in the center of the small, dark room with her hands in chains. Melori twisted her right hand in the cuff, folding her thumb into her palm and tugging, but it was no good. The metal circlets were linked together by a chain several links in length and fastened firmly. She knew from her days among Templars at the Circle that these were the kinds of bindings that would not burn or bend from the heat of magefire.

"Dammit," she muttered, moving across the floor from wall to wall. Dorian was somewhere nearby, likely in need of aid and she was _here_ ready and willing to help, even if she did still feel as though she was in the process of developing pnuemonia. "It's always something…"

Her footsteps paused and she blinked in the dark nearly slapping herself in the face with the chains when she hit her forehead with her hand. "Oh. Right. And some people think I'm quick-witted ..."

Melori pushed her fingers through her hair, which was matted and heavy with dirt and debris. There were twigs, a lot of dried mud, and blood matting everything down, but there were also hair clips, ribbons, and a few pins still keeping her braid together. She gritted her teeth, wincing when she hit the lump on the back of her head, trying to find one of the bone and metal pins. It was difficult with the heavy chains, but she found one eventually, pulling it free of her hair and tucking it into her sleeve before casting a simple mage light.

The small luminescent globe floated in the air, casting cool light in all directions. It certainly made it easier to see the latch on the cuffs. She paused a few times to cough, but soon had wiggled the sharp end of the pin into the keyhole. She had a moment of doubt, wondering if the Templars had somehow made cuffs that could not be picked, but the latch clicked and fell open, freeing her left hand. Freeing the right hand was harder, as she was not left-handed, but it, too, clicked open.

Blessing Caro and her insistence that they learn how to pick locks, Melori dropped the manacles to the floor and moved to the door, listening for movement on the other side before kneeling down to look at the interior door latch, only to find it had been removed. For a moment, she felt as though the world were pressing in on her, the mage light dimming as she covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a sudden surge of coughing that _hurt_ like her chest was ripping apart. When she'd finally got control again, Melori thought about Dorian and the others who might be with him.

"Not today," she muttered to herself, flicking a hand to cancel the mage light. "You're not falling apart today. Maybe tomorrow. Just .. have a lovely cry and reread the letter. Again. If it's still in that jacket you left at the ruin ... and maybe ask the Inquisitor if you can just pop back to Skyhold for a bath. A long, long bath. With bubbles. And books."

Ice was not her normal element, but she knew enough to do this. Her hand pressed flat against the door near where she thought the bolt must be, and she concentrated very hard, trying to resist the urge to cough again, ice spreading along the door in crystalline patterns that spread and solidified. Her breathe escaped her in a little cloud, and Melori reached down to grab the bottom of the door where there was room for her fingers, and jerked it backward.

The wood around the lock shattered beneath the force applied to it, and she was soon able to force it open, pushing past the broken wooden bits. Melori stepped into a dark, empty hallway and peered around the corner, nearly screaming when something soft and bright brushed up against her ankle and meowed, reflective eyes blinking up at her in the dark.

"_Fenedhis_!*" She cursed in a whisper, freezing in place. The cat twined between her legs and meowed again, and, without thinking it over, Melori stared down at it and frowned. "All right ... fine ... moving forward, then."

"_Perhaps not forward," _a silky, purring sort of voice muttered into the dark. "_I would recommend bearing left to the stairs, personally."_

"What? Who is there?" Melori whispered, peering around in the darkness, her heart pounding in her chest. When something soft and delicate pressed tiny, razor sharp needles into her calf with slow deliberation, she looked down, her eyes going wide.

"_It's not that difficult to comprehend, but you're wasting time. The elf is coming. Pretend I'm a halla again, if you must."_ The cat stared up at her with bland, gleaming eyes.

The words Melori uttered then mixed six different languages and were neither ladylike, nor polite, and ended in a coughing fit as she turned left into a long gallery, a stair case in the back. Keeping low and quiet, she crossed through the shadowy space, her hand clapped over her mouth. If she didn't get a healing potion soon, the coughing was going to get her killed.

"_Turn right at the top_." The cat swished past her, it's fluffy tail curling as it moved. With no other options presenting themselves, Melori followed it, though she cast her wards as she moved ... just in case the cat turned into a demon at the top of the stairs.

"_In here_," the cat stood up on its hind legs, pawing at a closed door along the hallway. Melori turned the handle and it opened inward, revealing a dark room beyond a small entry space. There were so many trees pressed to the windows, barely any light could enter. The cat ran in ahead of her and she shut the door quietly behind them, stepping inside and looking around, she opened her mouth to ask the cat a question when something large grabbed her from behind, a huge hand clapped over her mouth.

Kicking did no good. She heard a grunt and then a rumble as whoever held her moved, picking her up off her feet. Panic was setting in and then she heard Bull's voice, very quietly, in her ear. "Ribbons! It's us!"

* * *

"Phew," Varric said, offering Melori a healing potion. "I can't say the new perfume is workin' for ya, Librarian."

She laughed, coughing at the same time, and shook her head. "It's been a long ... day? More than a day? I'm not sure how long it's been, but I spent part of it in the river." Tilting her head back against the wall where they were sitting on the floor, she downed the potion, sighing in relief as the healing comfort spread through her body.

"Been more than a day," Bull said, patting her shoulder gently. "We didn't know you'd been captured, too. Or were you?"

"More than once," she answered, looking around the room. "Did either of you see a cat come in here ahead of me?"

"The white one?" Varric nodded. "Yeah, we saw it disappear through a hole in the wall and followed it inside earlier. It was hanging around us for a while, but then disappeared when we came in here."

"Oh," she bit her lip, considering her words carefully. "Did it ... did it talk to either of you?"

"Oh man, Ribbons," Bull chuckled. "You hit your head or something?"

She didn't answer, taking a bite of the food Varric had given her and pretending to be occupied. She thought she saw a pair of gleaming eyes looking out at her from beneath the bed, staring at her.

"Dorian's being held in the back, near the grand apartments," Varric explained while she ate. "The Inquisitor's sending reinforcements, but ... you know how these things go."

She nodded, "Best to get in before anything worse can happen than already has?"

"That's right."

"We were thinking, though ..." Bull began, "Well, you might want to stay here. You've got no armor and no weapons."

"But ... I can't do that," she protested. "If either of you has even a dagger, I could follow along, watch your backs? It's better than staying here alone."

"Ribbons," Bull was giving her a look usually reserved for one of the Chargers, unyielding and stern. "Maybe you haven't noticed, but you're in no condition to get through a fight. Stay here, sleep in the corner where no one will find you, and we'll come back for you."

"He's right," Varric said, patting her shoulder. "Here're my daggers, if you need them. We shouldn't be too long.

* * *

The cat climbed up onto her knees and then onto her shoulder, its front paws kneading into her chest over and over again as it purred. Melori stared at it, her lips twisting to the side. "You want me to go out there, don't you?"

The purr grew louder and it thrust its head up beneath her chin until she was forced to wrap her arms around it before they both fell over. It was a rather large cat, and heavy, too. "_It's my nature to inspire investigation_," the cat told her, biting a little at her chin.

"Ow!" she said mildly, coughing to the side as sleepiness washing over her. "Can't it wait just a little while? I think I'm sick."

"_You're definitely not well_," it said, little pinpricks of pain spreading out from its paws as it reminded her it was armed. "_You could stay here and let everything pass you by, or you could walk out into the hall and find out what's _really_ going on_. _There are things I am meant to show you._"

"You want me to wander out into a house full of Venatori with no way to protect myself just to satisfy my curiosity?" Melori asked, raising a brow at the cat.

"_Well, when you put it _that_ way,"_ he huffed.

"Why are you a cat right now?" She asked, absent-mindedly stroking it's soft fur. "You looked like the _hahren_ of one of the clans the last time I saw you."

"_The cat was bored and I asked if it minded a guest. It did not." _The cat stared at her with wide eyes, barely visible in the dark. "_I needed to be seen this time, at least by the others. I cannot help you if you're dead."_

"I ...see."

The cat purred, pushing his head up into her hand and she rubbed his ears. "_I can take you to your friend. The others are going the wrong way._"

* * *

The door creaked when she opened it, the cat darting out into the hall and turning to look at her, like a ghost in the pale moonlight that streamed through the dirty windows. Melori closed the door, looked both ways down the hall, and ran after it. The blades Varric had left with her were stashed in her belt. They went down a back stair, narrow and long, that had to have been meant for the servants, then ducked into a narrow passage with small rooms leading off of it, but did not stop.

"_They do not come here,_" the cat told her. "_The soldiers want a fire and food, maybe someone to warm their cot at night. The mages want only to rest and study. The Templars want more lyrium._"

"But where are you taking me?" Melori asked, her voice low, tiredness and illness chased away by the excitement of the search.

"_To your friend,_" the cat answered, running ahead down the hall. Melori followed slowly, watching for the flash of white fur in the darkness before her. She could hear voices conversing, indistinct through the walls. One was angry and bright, like a fire snapping against the wind, and she recognized it as Dorian's. The other ... she clamped a hand over her mouth and teetered on her feet. The other was the one she'd thought silenced in the Hissing Wastes, the one Dorian had feared might yet live - Gallus. For a moment she felt the world tilting beneath her and leaned against the nearest surface, her eyes shut tight, but then she heard Dorian speaking again and knew she had to move, to help.

Slowly pushing open the door at the end of the hall, Melori crept through the half-lit shadows on quiet feet. On the other side of the room, half-hidden by curtains that hung down from the ceiling, she saw Dorian on his knees in the center of the stone floor, his hands bound behind his back, his eyes flashing angrily as he retorted to something the other figure, a silhouette against the windows, was saying. Blood was trickling from his hair into his eyes, and he looked as though he'd been on the wrong end of a bad fight.

Melori crouched behind a column and waited, trying very hard not to cough when her breath hitched, pressing the back of her hand against her mouth until the urge passed. She was about to move to a nearer column when something bright and white ran past Dorian and the dark figure, and they both turned to look. Melori took that chance, centering her magic and using it to increase her speed and strength, the blade in her hand glowing green as she sprang forward.

"No!" She heard Dorian scream and felt the implosion of magic around her body as she hit the spell pattern on the floor causing it to blaze into glaring, burning red light. Pain brought her to her knees and she fell onto her side in a limp heap, unable even to move. Dorian was cursing in Tevene, his words sharp and bright in her mind, painful to hear, though she wished could join him. Her body was shaking convulsively against the stone tiles and the scent of blood magic was thick in the air.

"Well, this is fortuitous," Gallus' voice was liquid with power, and she squeezed her eyes closed, the blade still clutched tightly in her fist. "Beneath all the grime, I recognize a very particular _friend_ of mine."

"You don't know the meaning of the word, Gallus," Dorian said, his voice whip sharp in the dark. "Some of us actually care about what happens in the world."

"Oh, but I do care, Pavus," the mage replied, his footsteps measured and even across the floor as he approached. Melori could feel the power he carried like a storm on the horizon, pressing against her in a suffocating wave. He knelt beside her on one knee, his hand finding hers and disengaging the blade with firm fingers. "But I wish to take a place of power in Thedas. It is in those times that one must give up the petty things of life, don't you think?"

Dorian's laugh was harsh, "You think Corypheus will give you power?"

"Oh, no, Pavus," Gallus replied, rolling Melori onto her back and lifting the knife above her with a grim smile on his handsome face. "I don't plan to wait that long."

* * *

.

* Read recently that _Fenedhis_ is basically swearing by Fen'Harel's naughty bits - basically it's saying "By the Dread Wolf's bits" more or less. So, there you go. You've learned something new to hiss when you stub your toe. : D

NOTE: _I have a fondness for cats._


	36. Chapter 36

"_Revenge may be wicked, but it's natural."  
_~ William Makepeace Thackeray_, Vanity Fair_.

.

* * *

Melori stared up lifted the blade, the metal catching the firelight between Gallus's hands. She wanted to dodge to the side or scramble away, but her body felt leaden and heavy, the acrid taste of magic and the power that pressed her down overwhelming her senses. She could see Dorian behind him, struggling to win free, and a flash of a white tail. The power of the blood binding her was strong, feeding off of Gallus's power, which had been augmented by someone else's death – many someones, from the way his aura pulsed.

"And now," the magister said, "A little revenge."

The blade plunged and time seemed to slow. Melori felt cold steel sinking into her chest, cold and hot at the same time as pain flared … and then something struck Gallus hard and fast, bowling the mage over. The magic holding her in place snapped and she rolled to her side, coughing violently, clutching at her chest and groaning, blood soaking between her fingers.

To her left, she saw a familiar, pale-haired elf stabbing at the magister with dual blades, moving almost faster than she could follow. Gallus turned against him with a spell, driving the elf to his knees in obvious pain. While they were occupied, Melori took the chance to crawl on hand and knees across the floor toward Dorian.

"You always make such remarkable entrances," he said when she reached him.

"Running … face first ... into … a blood ward?" she panted, taking Varric's other blade from her belt and sawing at the ropes around his wrists. Finally freed, he winced and shook his hands out, a fierce smile crossing his face as he stood and spread his hands to either side, fire boiling from between his palms.

"This is how one ends a fight with a blood mage, my friend," Dorian said, murder in his eyes as the fire poured into the midst of the combatants. The rogue saw it coming and leapt away, but Gallus was caught unawares, his back to the two other mages. He turned in a rage and red-black smoke billowed toward them across the floor, but Dorian was ready for him. Fire wreathed the room and pushed the black smoke back as the two mages tested one another.

Gallus wiped blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of one hand, all hint of a smile gone from his face, dark brows lowering over his eyes. "Ah, Pavus. Nice of you to join the party. I suppose I'll have to tell your father you died in the midst of your feeble attempt at autonomy."

"Delightful conversation, as always, Gallus," Dorian smirked, drawing a line of fire between them. "Sadly, you lack the wit to finish once you begin."

"You would know, wouldn't you?" The other man hissed, and Melori found herself scuttling backward as blackened, creeping mist crawled across the tiles toward them. Cat bounded out from behind the curtains and twined against her, blood catching on his fur. He hissed at the black smoke, tail standing straight up and his ears flat against his skull. Dorian stood his ground and set his staff into the floor, a wash of blue energy racing out from him and covering the ground in a wave of light to push the fetid cloud away.

"It hurts me that you would so quickly discount our time together," Dorian said with amusement, . "Explains the kidnapping. Missed me, did you?"

Gallus's lip curled and he began to walk forward, having forgotten everything but the infuriatingly calm mage standing in front of him. Dorian tugged his gloves down with an absent air, the only signs of anger in the way his eyes narrowed and the shift of his weight as he drew a sigil in the air before him. A blaze erupted on the floor around Gallus's feet, but the blood mage seemed not to care, standing in the center of the inferno with his hand spread to either side.

"Watch your back, Dorian." His voice carrying across the room, fluid and intriguing, full of strange power. "Your little friend is not the ally you think she is."

Melori gasped, felt the pressure on her mind again, the seeking, grasping hold of the blood mage's power tugging on her will and dragging her to her feet, her hand grasping tightly to the blade Varric had given her. Cat hissed, his fur standing on end, and she felt power shifting over her, trying to push the blood mage's influence away - though it did no good. It hurt to move, her breath burning in her chest, her head swimming with the pain of her injuries, but, despite fighting it, Melori walked forward, one foot in front of the other, her hand lifting with the blade in it as she approached Dorian's back.

"Stop ... STOP!" She gasped before her voice, too, was stripped from her.

Shimmering wards shot up around Dorian before she could reach him, and he turned, his face a mask as her body was thrown into the blue haze and she gasped in pain, lifting a hand with power flaring over her fingers, hissing and spitting with building lightning. Never had she lost control so completely to someone else, and Melori fought it, trying to withdraw her hand, trying to step back. She succeeded to a degree, face pale with the struggle, and her eyes met Dorian's.

"You should see you right now," he said with a crooked smile, his mustache lifting to one side as he sighed. "Do forgive me, this is going to sting a bit, I'm afraid." His hand lifted and power rippled out from his center in an inexorable wave of blue light, hurtling Melori away from him and into the nearby wall, the knife spinning out of her hand as she slid down and fell into a heap, one of her arms feeling strangely numb.

A spell slammed against Dorian as his back was turned, dissipating against his shields as he spun on his heel and threw fire into Gallus's face so hard and fast that the other magister screamed, barely able to ward himself. His robes caught fire and the magister threw them off, slinging them to the side. Melori could see through hazy eyes that he bore a ragged scar across his chest, ending just above the waistband of his trousers. Her work, probably. A smile crossed her lips.

Fire and blood and blue spirit light flared across the space between the Altus and the Magister. The curtains caught fire and flared, illuminating the room in flickering light. Dorian staggered as the powerful spells hit him, but he did not waver, his acid tongue doing as much damage as his magery. Gallus replied, but it was clear the jabs struck his pride and his spellwork became frantic, inelegant, rabid ... when the elf stepped up behind him, Melori had barely enough time to register his presence before one of the rogue's blades sank deep into Gallus's back, the other coming round this throat and slicing neatly, precisely to the side.

"Now, don't we all feel so much better?" Dorian said with a smile, though he did not take his eyes from the elf as Gallus's body slumped to the floor. "I hope you do not intend to continue your master's work after that."

"You should look to your friend," the elf said, jerking his blade free before rolling the corpse onto its back. "I've killed the guards and anyone who would have come running. That Qunari and dwarf have taken everything else in hand."

"Join us," Dorian answered, his eyes tracking the growing pool of blood across the floor. "The Inquisitor is always looking for new recruits."

* * *

Smoke filtered through the room as the curtains fell to the floor in smoldering heaps of mildewed cloth. The echoes of magic lingered, sparking and creeping along the floor in atmospheric drags and occasional arcs. Dorian straightened his clothes and his hair, then turned in a slow circle to survey the damage. When his gaze lit on Melori, he muttered a curse beneath his breath, foosteps ringing on the stone as he crossed to where she lay at the base of the wall.

"Melori?" His hands were gentle as he pushed her matted hair out of her face, his face pale beneath his tan. "Maker ... I've nearly done you in."

"Would take... more than that," she managed, coughing painfully as she tried to sit up. "Can ... we go home now?"

He laughed at that, a tight, strained sound, and he pulled her up into a sitting position. "Of course. I'll just swing round and call the carriage, shall I?"

Cat brushed by Dorian's arm and curled his warm, silken body against her thigh, purring lightly. There was blood on his fur, but he seemed otherwise perfectly fine. He nudged her hand with his head. "_Well, at least that's done now."_

"Did that ... " Dorian's voice trailed off, his eyes on Cat. "Did the cat just _speak?"_

Cat blinked slowly at Dorian, his Fade green eyes gleaming with what looked to be amusement. "_Of course not. Felines can do many things, but speaking to humans is not one of them._"

"You're new pet is possessed."

"It's ... the spirit that's ... been following me," Melori explained, rubbing Cat's ears with the arm that still worked. She looked up as the shadow of the elf rogue fell over them, his gray eyes narrowed. "So. You've saved my life twice now," she said, frowning at him.

"I killed your friends," he answered stiffly. "I cannot make amends for that."

"No," She agreed, pausing to cough again. "No, you cannot. Was he compelling you, too?"

"Yes." He looked away, his lips tightening as he stared at the magister's body on the floor. "He also has - _had_ my family and was holding them against me. I can release them now and will not kill for him again."

"The Inquisition could use a blade like yours," Dorian said. "In the meantime, would you know where one might find an apothecary, a healer, or, perhaps, a healing potion? My friend is in desperate need of a philter. Though, perhaps we should first have your name, hmm?"

"Seloris," the rogue said, crouching down next to Melori and handing a potion to Dorian, though his fingers gripped it tighter as Dorian attempted to take it from him. "Illiam Seloris. You can't heal her yourself?"

"I can do many things perfectly" Dorian answered, brow lifting. "Healing, however, is not one of them."

"Pity," the elf said, lips quirking into a half-smile as he let go of the potion. Dorian scowled.

* * *

The sun was breaking through the windows along the back of the hall when Iron Bull and Varric arrived. They were covered in blood and bruises, though Bull was the worst off, having apparently taken the full brunt of the Venatori forces. Weapons at the ready, they came limping through the double doors only to stop short when they saw the two mages and the strange elf at the other end of the hall and the bloody corpse in to one side.

"Ribbons, I thought I told you to stay put," Bull said to Melori his brow drawing down over his eyes.

"It became inconvenient," she replied, wincing as Dorian finished tying her arm into a sling. Her voice was rough and hoarse, and her face was flushed with a rising fever - but she was alive. "I had to find Dorian."

"You mean you couldn't stand sitting still for that long," Varric chuckled, walking forward to take a look at the dead magister on the floor. "Looks like you all had your own troubles."

"An old friend was lying in wait for us," Dorian murmured, leaning his head back against the wall. He nodded toward Illiam, "Our friend here was one of his unwilling allies until he put an end to Gallus's sorry life."

A flurry of footsteps sounded in the halls behind them and everyone stiffened. Melori rose awkwardly to her feet with Dorian's help while the rest drew their weapons, waiting to see who was coming. But then the Inquisitor and Cassandra rounded the door into the room, Blackwall and Solas on their heels, and everyone but Illiam relaxed, their weapons lowering. He took a moment, then sheathed his blades.

"Oh, thank the Maker," The Inquisitor said, a smile crossing her face at the sight of them. "We thought we were too late. Serida said ... well, she feared you were all dead."

"It's good to see you, your Worship," Melori smiled, cheered beyond words by the news that Serida had survived. "I'm so glad she made it."

"She said you dunked her in the river first," Solas said, moving through the group and tending to wounds, one by one, his hands gleaming with green light.

"Hah, yes, I did," Melori nodded, coughing into her hand. "Not my best idea, probably."

"You've had some winners recently," Bull muttered, which earned him a glare.

Cat twined through Melori's legs and stood up on his hind legs, pawing at her knees. Dorian leaned over and picked him up, depositing the animal onto Melori's good arm with a sly smile. "You're going to be the end of me," she hissed to them both.

"Inquisitor, if I may?" Dorian said, walking away with a smirk. "This is Illiam Seloris. He was under the mental coercion of the Venatori who was running this lovely establishment. The Venatori had his family and Gallus used his magic to bind him."

"I am afraid not many of your people would welcome me, given my actions under Gallus's command." Illiam explained again, his posture very stiff.

Cassandra's eyes snapped to Melori at the mention of the magister's name, but the mage was staring at the floor, swaying a little as she scratched the white cat around the ears. "Gallus?" The Seeker asked.

"A powerful blood mage," Dorian supplied, gesturing to the body on the floor. "We believed him dead, but were wrong. His body lies there. Illiam would make a good addition to the Inquisition, considering his knowledge of the Venatori."

"I will consider it," The Inquisitor answered, looking him over with a small frown, though her tone was not unfriendly. "For now, let us get everyone moving and back to camp. We've got a long ride ahead of us."

"What of the ruin we were meant to study?" Melori asked, "It could be important. After all the trouble we went to ... "

"I think," Cassandra said drily, "That everyone here needs rest before we even consider another ruin exploration."

* * *

Melori and Cat followed the group through the manor house at the slow pace of the dead tired. A few times one of the others would have to put a hand out to guide her around some obstacle and she would thank them and step over or around it. There were a lot of dead bodies in the hallways and various rooms, but her nose was so stuffed up she could barely smell a thing, thankfully. All she wanted was a bath and to sleep for a year. And maybe to regain the use of her right arm, which Solas said needed more in depth attention than he could give before they got to camp.

"Ribbons."

"Hmm?" She realized she'd stopped walking and looked around in bleary confusion. They were in the courtyard where Inquisition soldiers waited with the horses. In the morning light the space looked far less ominous, despite the red lyrium and dead templars everywhere. Bull sighed and put a hand between her shoulder blades, propelling her forward toward the horses.

"You're like a lost _imekari_," he chuckled.

"Are you calling me something nasty?" She asked, pausing to cough into her shoulder, one hand in a sling, the other wrapped around Cat. Cat was lying half over her left shoulder, watching behind her and purring uproariously.

"No," Bull grinned. "I could come up with something worse, if you prefer it."

"Ah, no. Thank you," Melori answered. Her head was beginning to pound in that way that elf root wasn't likely to touch.

One of the soldiers brought over a horse who was not Tempest, and she eyed it for a moment with a frown, during which time Cat maneuvered himself around and jumped from her shoulder to the horse's back and looked down at her with a smug expression. Bull took advantage of the moment and lifted Melori up into the saddle, patting her gently on the shoulder once she was situated.

* * *

It was a weary group who reached the camp a few hours later. Melori slid out of the saddle and leaned her head against the horse's side, not moving. Her head hurt, she was sick, her arm didn't work, and the scab on her chest was stinging painfully. Cat rubbed up against her, purring and then head butting her, but she found herself unwilling to move.

"_Ma falon,_" Solas put a hand under her elbow. "There is a hot bath waiting for you and a bed."

"A hot bath?" She asked, lifting her head and blinking at him. "Out _here?_"

"The Dalish found a metal tub in one of the ruined houses on the Plains. They have been using it at their camp," he explained. "I have asked their healer to help you and she agreed, given all the Inquisitor has done to aid their clan."

"Oh," she blinked and nodded, swaying slightly. "That sounds lovely."

"I thought you would think so," he smiled, urging her forward past the aravels to the waiting Dalish healer and another elven woman. Cat tried to dart past them toward the bath, but Solas stooped down and lifted the feline into up into the crook of his arm, stroking the soft fur. "I will be here, acquainting myself with your ... companion." he said as they led Melori away.


	37. Chapter 37

_Heroes know that things must happen when it is time for them to happen.  
A quest may not simply be abandoned; unicorns may go unrescued for a  
long time, but not forever; a happy ending cannot come in the middle  
of the story. _ ~ Peter S. Beagle, _The Last Unicorn_

_._

* * *

For two days Melori lay on pallet in the healer's aravel and tried not to cough up a lung. They'd set her shoulder back into place, bound it, and healed it. Her wounds were healed or healing, and she was blessedly clean, her hair braided down her back in a variety of smaller braids twined into one elaborate knot-work of red and gold, but she couldn't stop coughing and there seemed to be a weight in her chest that would not abate. The fever was a miserable thing, causing her to shiver and ache endlessly. Breathing out of her nose was a near impossibility.

Two more letters had arrived from Cullen and she'd read them several times, when her sick head would allow it. His descriptions of life at the castle were distracting, and he had apparently made further inroads through the books in the study. It was a little worrying that he was writing so often, she thought, imagining him wandering the halls of Skyhold in the middle of the night, unable to sleep.

Outside her tent the morning of the second day, she heard Solas speaking with the healer, their voices low, and she listened because there was little else to do besides cough, reread the letters, or stare at the drying herbs over her head. Sleep, while necessary, had become difficult with the Desire demon appearing more often than not, though he had not appeared as Hugh again since that first experience.

"The Inquisitor wishes to send Enara back to Skyhold along with some of our other wounded," Solas said as she listened. "Perhaps in the next two days, if she is well enough to travel."

"If we can force the fever down, perhaps," the healer, an herbalist named Nissa, answered. "The congestion in her lungs will have to work itself out. Travel might make it worse unless someone's there to keep an eye on her."

"That will be provided. May I sit with her?" Solas asked. He sounded stiffly formal, as though he were working very hard to be polite, which had Melori smiling in amusement.

A few seconds later the aravel dipped a little as Solas climbed up into the wagon and sat beside her. Something warm and soft landed on the floorboards beside her and Cat draped himself against her chest, purring quietly. Melori was curled on her side, propped up on a pile of blankets, blankets half on and half off because she couldn't quite decide if she were too hot or too cold. She opened one eye and looked at Solas, who stretched his legs out alongside her and smiled.

"I won't get to see the ruin," she said, a mournful note in her voice that ended in a coughing fit. For a space of time, she fought it, trying to avoid the inevitable tearing pain in her chest. "Ugh ..."

"In your current state that would most certainly kill you," he answered, though not unsympathetically.

"What good am I if I can't do what they need me to do?" she asked, her voice rasping, a small feeling of panic welling through her center. "I don't want to be a mage in a tower again, never leaving, always-"

"_Atisha'dar_," Solas said, placing his hand over hers. "You are ill, Melori. You have not truly rested since Adamant and your strength is worn too thin. Even the Inquisitor rests now and again. Sadly, elves are not proof against illness. You are not immortal as the _elvhen_ once were."

"What if I miss something important?" she whispered, comforted by the touch on her hand.

"Dorian and I will bring you back details on everything we see," Solas promised. "Or do you not trust our observational skills?" That won him a glare and he chuckled, squeezing her hand gently.

"And if the demon comes back?" she mumbled, feeling the tug of sleep. "He keeps ... coming back."

Solas stilled and his eyes moved to Cat, who stared unblinking back at him. "Demon?"

"Desire ... just keeps coming back. Likes t'talk ...about ... magic," she answered, voice fading as sleep overcame her.

* * *

On the way back to Skyhold, Melori traveled in one of the carts the Inquisition used to transport the wounded, wrapped in a cloak and covered in the blanket from her bedroll. She shared the space with a human scout named Tesia who had taken a blow to the knee from a giant. They were both more than a little loopy from the potions and herbs, and became quick friends amidst the shared misery of pain and illness.

Considering how slowly the caravan was moving, they had over a week in each other's company, and spent most of the journey sleeping or playing incoherent games of Wicked Grace with cards that they borrowed from the soldiers escorting the group. The nights were the worst, when the humidity rose and her cough grew inevitably worse. Cat seemed to enjoy riding in the cart, spending a good deal of time perched on the seat next to the driver or pressed up against Melori while she dozed.

Now and then she would receive and send Leliana's ravens as they traveled, spending the evenings writing updates and taking new orders. She answered Cullen's letters and sent them off, even daring to continue the game of chess without aid, having drawn out a chess board in her journal and parsing out the moves beforehand. Cat was surprisingly helpful in this regard, offering advice as to potential moves, though he refused to explain the logic behind them.

They rolled back into Skyhold several days later, Melori feeling somewhat less wretched, though the cough still rattled in her chest like a piece of tearing cloth and her muscles _ached_ with the constant coughing. The fever had completely disappeared once they'd hit the cold and chill of the Frostbacks. The warmer air within the castle walls was a welcome relief as she helped Tesia from the cart and into the waiting arms of the guardsmen who would carry the scout up to the healer's rooms.

She looked over the various bags in the cart and began to gather them up, one by one, wondering how heavy they felt. Her armor was packed away in a bag, of course, having been retrieved from the ruin where she'd first been captured, and her weapons were lying to one side as well. She frowned, remembering the number of stairs between the gate and her rooms. Did she go to the study or her rooms? The thought of the latter made her stomach twist. Since she'd placed Hugh's things in her bedroom she had only returned to it a few times.

"Please tell me you're not considering carrying all of that yourself?" A familiar voice said behind her.

Melori, startled, caught her breath, and began coughing. She clasped one over her mouth with the end of her scarf, heat rising into her face. "Um ... no? Of course not, Commander," she said, when she could speak again. He was standing in the sunlight, looking at her with a concerned expression. "I'm fine, really."

"Liar," he chuckled, turning to wave to one of the soldiers. "You there! Carry these up to Enara's room."

"Oh, not the room! The study, please," she said, but he shook his head.

"No, your room," he nodded at the soldier, who grabbed Melori's gear and headed up the stairs at a trot. "Leliana's orders."

"But ...," her jaw flexed. "It's probably a mess. The Study is -"

"Lady Vivienne heard you were returning and has taken care of all the necessities," he explained, watching her face shift between expressions. "She was very careful to make sure nothing important was disturbed."

"I suppose I have no choice in the matter," Melori said, turning to gather Cat up into her arms, but he leapt away into the grassy courtyard, his tail swishing like a white flag as he bounded away. "Oh... not you, too," she muttered.

"You seem to be collecting pets," Cullen commented, watching Cat dart off into the bushes along the wall. "I hope he's a good mouser."

"Oh, he's many things. No doubt tormenting the local mice population will be high on his list," Melori answered, covering her mouth and coughing again. She felt more tired than she'd expected to, so when Cullen held out an elbow, she slid her hand through it without complaint, asking instead, "Did you receive my letters?"

"I did," he answered as they walked up the stairs. "Though you were not very forthcoming on the nature of your troubles in the Exalted Plains. I had to get that information from Leliana. Did you really sink a boat in order to let Serida escape?"

"I did," She answered, pausing on the stair to catch her breath. "Not my most enlightened of ideas, sadly."

Cullen was quiet for a few moments as they began to walk again. "You don't know how to swim."

"No," she admitted, glancing up at him. The tenor of his voice had been grim and his expression had darkened. "But she was only there because I didn't think to set guards on the river." They reached the top of the stairs and she tried to pull her hand free of his arm, but he held it tightly. Her face twisted into a frown. "I can decide for myself to do reckless things, but they were in my _care_ and they -" she stopped and took a breath, not meeting his eyes. "It didn't matter at the time if I could swim or not."

"Maker's breath," he looked for a moment as though he would say something more, but caught himself and drew her along past those gathered in the courtyard. They made their way up the stairs and into the Great Hall, pausing as a coughing fit took her. Cullen held her upright until it passed and then they made their way up the next flight to where Lady Vivienne sat reading.

"My dear!" The Senior Enchanter said when they appeared, moving the book to one side. "You look positively ghostly."

"The Commander said I had you to thank for readying my room for me," Melori said carefully, trying to stand straighter, though she was beginning to feel wobbly and a headache was blooming behind her eyes. Her fingers gripped tightly to the metal of Cullen's vambraces.

"I simply made sure everything was freshened for your arrival," Vivienne answered. "I have made it my cause to keep all of the mages comfortable while we serve the Inquisition. Darling, I do hope I have not upset you?"

"No ... no," Melori shook her head, falling back on old habits and hidden thoughts. "I appreciate your concern, I really do."

That earned her a speculative glance, but the other mage's lips softened into a smile. "When you are feeling better, I would like to spend some time with you, actually."

"I would be honored, Lady Vivienne," Melori answered politely, though she gritted her teeth.

* * *

Her room seemed a different place when they entered it. There were more pillows, fresh linens of a finer quality than she'd ever seen, flowers in a vase on the dressing table, and paintings on the walls. In one corner stood a new wardrobe, and she saw a trunk to the right of it bearing the Templar emblem. The room was changed, certainly, but all the things that brought her pain were out of sight.

Cullen took a breath as they entered, his brow shooting up. "It smells like Embrium and Prophet's Laurel," he said appreciatively. "I wonder if this is what the Orlesian Circle is like?"

"Impossibly elegant and expensive?" Melori asked, glancing at him before letting go of his arm to brush a hand over the new coverlet. "Or perhaps she's trying to win us all over to support her when she attempts to ... " she halted and sighed. "I'm sorry. That was ungrateful of me."

"On the contrary," he answered, leaning against the door frame while Melori took a seat in one of the new wing-backed chairs beside the fireplace. "It is wise to question the motives of Orlesians. That blasted Game makes everything suspect."

"It feels like someone else's room," she muttered, feeling obliged not to sprawl in the chair. "Which means I must makes a mess of it as soon as possible ..."

"I daresay you'll make short work of it," he chuckled, reaching down to carry her bags over to the wardrobe. Compared to the finer furnishings, they seemed grubby and dirty, and Melori wondered if she looked the same way, picking at the wool coat she was wearing unhappily. Cullen saw her expression and frowned. "Melori ..." he hesitated.

"I'm sorry, I was ... just thinking ... things," she said, shifting in the chair and covering her mouth on yet another cough with a grimace. "I wish I'd come back with the others, not ... not like this."

"It is preferable to not returning at all. You know that."

Her eyes flitted to the wooden chest with the Templar crest on its side and she nodded, looking down at her hands. "I've never really been in charge of anyone before and I kept thinking what you would do, or what Hugh would do ... and ...," she looked up at him, her expression almost angry, color rising into her cheeks.

"You couldn't have stopped their deaths," he told her firmly. "No matter how much you blame yourself, you did not kill them."

"I could have done ... something! I should have posted guards along the river bank. Or had us all stay with Dorian's group. I should have let Serida climb through the tunnel with the veil fire torch. I could have fought for them had I done that!" Melori took to her feet, her hands fisted at her sides. "_You_ would do what you needed to do to protect people. You _did_ do that in Haven. How do you _bear_ it when they die?"

"You bear it because you must. Because you are fighting against an enemy who will destroy everything you hold dear if you do not," he answered softly, looking down at her with a frown between his eyes. "Sometimes you send them out against the enemy knowing they will not return, and you walk the castle at night hoping to see something bright to give you hope that it was the right decision."

They stared at each other for a long moment before Melori nodded, feeling ashamed of herself. "I'm sorry. I should have thought before I spoke."

"All I require is that you do not try to drown yourself again," he said with a crooked smile that brought her eyes to the scar on his lip. Melori swallowed a little, color rising further as she realized just how close he was, almost close enough to ... she killed the thought abruptly.

"I... I'll try to avoid it in the future," she promised, a little bemused at the riot of competing emotions making her heart race.

"Good," his smile grew as he turned to leave. "We have a chess game to finish."

* * *

"There is every sign of pneumonia," the healer said a few hours later, the curls of her _vallaslin_ a certain seriousness to her gaze. Orila was a thorough woman and skilled in the healing arts, having followed the _Vir Atish'an_ with the keeper of her Clan for many long years. "Though you are showing improvement from early reports. Now that I've seen you, I'm of the opinion that you are suffering from exhaustion, as well. If you would rather not see the surgeon any time soon, I suggest you rest and take some time to recuperate."

"I'm all right now, really," Melori protested, sitting on the edge of her bed in a loose blouse and leggings. "I know I'm sounding hoarse still and the cough is still there, but I'm doing much better than I was. Certainly nothing that would keep me from working. Surely?"

"When you can make it from here to the Great Hall and back without having to stop to rest, I'll let you do what you like," Orila said firmly. "If I catch you in that study or in the library - or anywhere that isn't this room, the Nightingale will hear about it. Do you understand?"

"You want me to stay in bed for ... how long?" Melori asked, horrified. "If I don't have something to do, I'm going to go mad."

The healer rolled her eyes. "I'm sure there are plenty of people to visit you. And I'll have someone checking on you now and then. Let me be very clear on this," she leaned close to Melori and spoke very concisely. "Your body has suffered a great many injuries over the past few months - your leg, various stab wounds, head injuries, and more. When you add something like drowning onto the top of all that? You're making what's already bad worse."

"But ..."

"I haven't even added the damage the magical injuries have done to you, but if the list the Nightingale gave me is any indication, you've got a dire need for _complete rest_. By the Creator, _da'len_," Orila shook her head. "You're pale a ghost and thinner than you ought to be. Any healer worth her salt would be doing exactly what I am now."

"You've made your point," Melori growled, crossing her arms over her chest only to ruin everything when a coughing fit grabbed her and she bent over, feeling like her lungs were coming apart. The healer placed a warm hand on her back, warm magic flowing into her skin, easing the pain of it.

"I'll have one of the others take you down to the baths in a little bit," Orila promised, her voice sympathetic.

"I would like that."

She was still sitting on the bed after Orila left and Cat twined his way through the door, his bright eyes full of mischief. "_I don't suppose you want to come see what I found in the garden, do you?" _

"I'm not allowed to leave this room till I'm well again," Melori told him, irritated.

"_Pity_," he answered, tail swishing. "_I'll just go back and play with the other one._"

"What other one?" she asked, but he was gone.

.

LINEBREAK

NOTE: _ So, this almost didn't get to you all because my computer went completely insane after a power outage and I lost almost EVERYTHING. It's only roughly edited. I apologize for that. _


	38. Chapter 38

_Your world is not crumbling it's only changing .  
Your behavior through these changes will be  
what controls the outcomes. ~ _AnikSun

.

* * *

_Hard in Hightown _was re-read, beginning to end, the first day. _Swords and Shields _was begun that evening, dropped over the side of the bed, fetched back the next morning and finished as well, though that series elicited more than a little exasperating groaning. On the third day, she dressed herself in a warm tunic over a light shirt, leather breaches, and a hooded cloak to hide her hair, and made her escape. Down the stairs to the Great Hall, which she crossed with her head down beneath her cloak till she reached the door that led to Josephine's office and the stairs down to the kitchens and the study.

She kept one hand tight to the wall and made her way downstairs, halting midway at the sight of Cullen turning the corner and look up at her. He paused. For a brief moment she considered moving past him as though their eyes hadn't just met, but he was already climbing the stairs, a smile tugging at his lips in an intriguing way. "What have we here?"

"Absolutely nothing, Ser," Melori answered, gripping hold of the rope that served as a baluster. "Just … going to the kitchens for a bite to eat or a book to read …" her voice trailed off as he peered more closely at her, their heads about even when she stood two steps above where he stood. "Um … " she breathed, staring at his mouth for a moment too long and then flushing to the roots of her hair when she saw that same mouth twitch upward into a full smile.

"I was going to visit you today," Cullen said, reaching up to tug at her hood. "But here you are. Going incognito?"

"It's the only way to avoid being tackled by a horde of healers," she admitted, biting at her lip and moving aside to let him pass. "I shouldn't keep you."

"Play chess with me in the garden?" he asked, fingers dropping from her cloak and brushing just a little against her arm. "I promise not to win immediately."

"Oh, will you not? I'm not that bad!" she protested, wishing her face felt less hot.

"No, you're not, especially if you practice. So you're agreed?"

"I would be happy to. Actually, if you wanted to use me as a practice dummy in the sparring ring, I'd agree to that as well at this point," Melori said earnestly. "I can't stay another day in that room. Whatever they think it's doing for me, it's not worth the insanity."

"Happily, we won't have to go to quite those lengths," He laughed and continued up the stairs, Melori following more slowly, for once not thinking about the books she was leaving behind.

* * *

They played two games in the gazebo, enjoying the warm air within the enclosure and the scent of growing herbs while they played. Melori thought she'd fairly well holding her own against the Commander, grinning when she managed to capture one of his pieces and groaning when he captured one of hers. She did manage to surprise him a few times, remember what Dorian had taught her about the game on the road, but it was an uphill battle that left her laughing at the way he gloated when he won.

"You really aren't doing badly for so new a player," Cullen admitted while they set the board up for another game. "Solas is the most difficult opponent I've played in Skyhold, but Dorian is quite a challenge. He has a unique style and often attempts to distract the other player with interesting discussion. I'm noticing your moves are beginning to resemble his."

"He _has_ been teaching me more about the game," Melori acknowledged, moving her pieces into position. "Where did you learn to play? Was it when you were among the Templars?"

"Hardly," he chuckled. "My sister used to torment my brother and me until we joined forces to defeat her."

"Do you have many brothers and sisters?" she asked, nudging her queen into position and sitting back in the chair. The breeze was picking up and she pulled her cloak closer, watching Cullen's face as he remembered his family. Until Hugh, it had been difficult to imagine Templars having lives outside of their service, or people who they cared about. In the Circle they'd most often been forbidding figures, always watching and rarely speaking.

"Two sisters and a brother," Cullen answered, making the first move and sitting back in his chair. "We grew up in Honnleath, but they moved to South Reach after the Blight. I haven't seen them in some time." He paused, frowning, "I don't suppose you remember your family very well ..."

"Actually, I remember my parents quite well," she smiled and made her first move, one of the openers Dorian had taught her. "I have three brothers, actually, but I've never known them. My mother said that she met my father at a trading camp and left her Clan to join him. When he died, my brothers stayed but she did returned to her family in the Brecillian Forest. I was the only girl and ... oh, something of a surprise to everyone."

"The magic?" he asked, glancing up at her after making his move.

Melori frowned down at the board, brows creased in thought. "Well, when your five year old starts a storm that blows over an aravel and everything in it, it's ... problematic. It was decided that I should go to the Circles due to the nature of my magery and my parents took me to the nearest Chantry. Actually, the Templar who took me to the Ferelden Circle was very kind to me."

"But the others in the Tower were ..."

"Not quite so agreeable," She agreed with a rueful expression, pausing for a moment to make her next move. "I wasn't always unhappy there."

Cullen nodded, staring down at the board with a thoughtful expression. "And now?" he asked, capturing one of her pieces and setting it aside.

"Now I'm terrified that it's all going to blow away like so much smoke," she answered, not having realized the truth of it until she spoke it aloud. "People are so ... fragile."

The game went on in silence after that, though there were moments of laughter when one of them managed a good move and the other protested. Cullen was winning, but Melori thought she might actually be giving him trouble now from the way he twisted his mouth to the side while studying his next move.

Leaning over the board she frowned in concentration, lips pursing. "I think I see what you are about, Commander," she muttered, capturing his knight, only to slump in her chair when he smirked and moved to check-mate. "I almost had you!"

"So you did!" he exclaimed, laughing. "Well done!"

* * *

Orila was not pleased that she'd spent several hours out of doors or that Melori had left her room without permission, and promised to have words with the Commander about it as soon as possible. After that had come another examination, more magical healing, and herbs dropped over the fire to fill the room with their soothing scents. Melori had lain against the pillows after Orila left and stared at the ceiling, worn out from the day and frustrated.

Which was about the time that one of the pages arrived at her door with a large stack of books, most of which Melori had not encountered before. Barely able to contain herself, she'd kept him long enough to discover a note on the top of the pile:

_Librarian Enara,_

_Having heard that you were ailing, I felt it my duty to do what likely no other has thought to do and provide you with entertainment. If these should also aid you in our research endeavors, all the better. _

_Do not linger in this illness, elf, lest I begin to believe you a layabout._

_Morrigan_

The next morning when Orila returned to make certain Melori was resting, she threw her hands in the air and called on the Creator for patience, leaving in a huff. But the mage was too busy writing notes into her journal and reading the new books to really care too much, and her candles burnt out several times through the night as she studied. She fell asleep somewhere near down, a book open on her lap and all her blankets askew. When her breakfast came around, she managed to cajole the maid to bring her more of her books from her study and over the space of a few days, her bedroom began to look more and more like a library.

* * *

It was late afternoon, and Melori was surrounded by books, curled on her side somewhere in the middle of the nest, head near the foot of the bed and a pillow crumpled beneath her chin, one bare foot swinging extended off the bed. Her journal was propped beneath one hand, and she was pouring over a Tevinter treatise on the nature of elvhen magic while cross-referencing it with an even older book Morrigan had leant her.

"_I had no idea other creatures could contort themselves like that_," he purred, bouncing onto the bed and idly toppling one of the stacks of books to the floor.

Melori lifted her head from an in depth description of the fall of Arlathan and blinked owlishly, the circles under her eyes speaking volumes, "In five minutes everything will begin to ache and I will have to rearrange myself. Where have you been?"

"_I was playing with the other one_," Cat said, licking his paws and washing his face fastidiously. "_It's really none of your concern. You're not getting any better are you?_"

"Replacing me are you?" She asked, ignoring his question and reaching over the edge of the bed to pick up the books he'd toppled. "I should have known. Who is this _other one _ you've mentioned?"

"Stopping hurts more than hurting," a voice said from the open doorway, and Melori jerked up, knocking more books off the bed and sliding off the comforter to join them on the floor. "Stopping means letting go and what if they don't want you back? What if they send you away? _If I'm not useful, they won't keep me_."

"Cole!" she gasped, feeling bruised and embarrassed, her breath rattling in her chest as she gathered herself together. "I ... I didn't hear you there." She _wished_ she hadn't heard him ... or herself, as it were, spoken into the evening air.

"_Cole thinks you need help_," Cat said smugly, turning a circle in the middle of the warm spot she'd left on the bed and curling up there. "_He also said I am a very clever cat."_

Melori shot him a look and stood to her feet, trying to stack the books back together neatly. "You're not just clever," she muttered.

"Cats have names," said Cole, sitting down in one the chairs near the fire. Cat jumped onto his knee and perched, looking perfectly at home. "But you call him Cat."

"I don't know his name," Melori answered. "Honestly, I'm not even sure if he's a ... he or a she or ...well." She eyed Cat with a frown, "Care to enlighten us?"

Cat shrugged with that profound unconcern all cats possess, "_I have no opinions on the subject. Call me whatever you like."_

"The cat was named Minette when it had a name," Cole informed her soberly, face half-hidden beneath his hat. "But now your friend prefers to be called _Revas_."

Melori blinked at the two of them ... or three of them, strictly speaking. "_Revas ... _Freedom?"

"That was his name before," Cole explained, looking down into Cat's eyes.

Melori continued to stack books to the side and then pulled the coverlet back onto the bed before taking a seat. "Shall we call you _Revas_ or Cat then?"

"_I will answer to both_," he answered, stretching out on Cole's lap to begin batting at the brim of the spirit's hat.

Melori sighed and picked up the book she'd been reading, not quite sure what to do with the two sitting there staring. Having Cole nearby always made her irritable, though he was nice enough, even sweet. It was more that she had no idea what he would say next, and there were so many things she would rather not think about or have others know.

"You hurt when I talk," Cole said, watching her. "You want to hold everything in, but you can't. Revas says you're making yourself sick."

"When you start up as you do it feels like an intrusion," she tried to explain. "I've already had someone in my head, and ... I did not enjoy it."

"But it's worse now," he said quietly. "You're thin and tired with pushing it away. I can help you and you'll be strong again." His voice fell into the cadence he used when he was reading the feelings of others, and Melori's head dropped, a hand moving to cover her face. "Full of life, all spent. Worthless. Sitting still. Cannot be of value without use. Water closing. Couldn't keep them _safe_. Should have died. Water Closing overhead. Peaceful. Serida will _live_ now."

"P lease don't do that, Cole," she said, very quietly. "It's too difficult ..."

"Trampling, goading, unable to resist. Nothing _works._ My hands are not my hands. Dorian ... please, turn around. He has his back to me. I can't ... that _thing_ is in my head. He never left. He never let go ... and now Dorian ... No. No! Mythal, help me ... He's my friend!"

Melori's hands were gripping the book so tightly her knuckles were white, the veins standing out from her too-pale skin. "Dorian didn't die. He saved us both and now Gallus is dead. It's over."

"It still frightens you. Why are you still afraid if he's dead?" Cole whispered, his eyes gleaming at her from beneath the brim of his hat. "You're seeing demons in your dreams. You never saw them before you met him, not like this. You don't know what to do ... what if someone finds out? What if _he_ finds out?"

"Of course I'm afraid!" Melori snapped, anger rising to the surface. "Don't you understand? Gallus wasn't the only Venatori who could do what he did! There are more of them out there."

"But you're safe here," He reasoned. "Why don't you want to be here, where it's safe?"

"Nowhere is safe!" She said tersely, her lips compressing. "Cole, you're a _spirit_. You should be as afraid as I am!"

His pale eyes flew wide as he saw what lay in her mind. The memory of Adamant - of abominations under the complete control of the Venatori mage who served Corypheus. He saw her knowledge and what it meant for him, of the _danger_ of it.

"They could bind me," he said, anger and horror in his voice. Melori's eyes snapped up, realizing too late what he had seen or heard, but one moment he was there in front of her, the next he was gone.

"_You should be ashamed of yourself_," Cat said, glaring at her, his tail swishing and his ears laid back. "You_ could have helped _him_, but you terrified him instead."_

She put her face in her hands, trying to breathe, already knowing the damage she'd done. "I have to find him," she said, stumbling through the books on the floor and throwing on her cloak. Cat - or _Revas_, she remembered - followed along behind her after she shoved her feet into her shoes and fled down the hall, wrapping herself tightly in her cloak against the cold of the night.

* * *

He wasn't in the tavern or any of the usual places, and Melori was growing rapidly tired, her heart pounding in her chest as she sucked in lung-fulls of cold night air, feeling as though she'd just climbed the nearest mountain peak instead of the tavern stairs. She'd walked all the way down to the stables, shivering in her cloak, but could not find him in the loft or near the horses. She dropped onto a bale of hay near Blackwall's carving table.

Revas brushed up against her legs, twining around her ankle. "_He's not where you can find him. You need to go back."_

"But ... what if I did something horrible?" she whispered. "What if ... he's a spirit. Solas said that spirits can change into demons if they're abused."

"_He is not a demon_," he answered, head-butting her gently. "_You weren't _wrong_ to warn him. But you did it badly."_

"I ... thought I was protecting myself," Melori admitted, squeezing the bridge of her nose tightly. Her head was pounding and the cold air was painful to inhale. Her body felt heavy with guilt and dismay, and she wanted to lay her head down on her knees and cry, though that would only make it harder for her to breathe. "How do we help him?"

"_You cannot_," he answered, sliding along her arm. "_But maybe there is something in one of your books_?"

"You just want me to go back to my room," she whispered, clutching her hands round herself. It hurt to inhale and she was very cold.

"_Is it working?"_ he asked.

"Yes," she admitted. "But I fear the stairs may overcome me."

"_Then walk very slowly while I find someone_," Revas said, bounding off into the dark.

Melori climbed to her feet, thinking she must look like an old woman with her hair standing up all over and her back bent as she wobbled along. It seemed very cold and she shivered, tugging the cloak tighter. "How is he going to find anyone like that?" she wondered aloud, heading toward the stairs to the kitchens. At least it was warmer there, and maybe one of the serving girls would fetch someone to help her back. She'd only gone up a few steps, however, before she was forced to sit down, her head spinning.

"Your friend told me you required aid?" Morrigan said out of the dark, and Melori looked up to see the apostate standing at the bottom of the stair, looking up at her with an unreadable expression.

"I've been a fool," she confessed, wishing she sounded a little less froglike. "I am afraid I need help returning to my room. Ca ... Revas cannot ask the guard, obviously."

"Hmm," the mage walked up the stairs and looked her over, one of her brows lifted. "Kieran suffered from such once as an infant. Perhaps what worked with him could help you."

"I would not say no to your help, my lady," Melori answered, her teeth beginning to chatter. "But I do hope it involves some places a little more comfortable."

"You're no good to me dead," Morrigan smirked. "So, I suppose I could lend a hand."

.

* * *

NOTE: I had this mental image of Morrigan having to deal with a fussy, croupy baby and ... just ... awww. I do love Morrigan.


	39. Chapter 39

_True friends will always push you towards the great possibilities  
of your future, false friends will always chain you to the mistakes  
in your past. _~ Seth Brown

_._

* * *

For several days her world shrank to the little bubble of her bedroom, and, this time, she was glad to be in it. Propped against the headboard and a pile of pillows, Melori shivered and coughed her way through yet another fever, victim to the not-so-tender mercies of Morrigan and Orila, neither of whom seemed particularly inclined toward sympathy. For a few days she endured poultices and magics, tinctures and potions, and lots of broth, and slept between times, hazy with medicine and fever. Her dreams were horrible things, and she would wake up gasping for breath, having found herself running through twisting passages, trying to find Cole.

Kieran had taken to following Revas around the garden and, sometimes, he would appear in the doorway, staring inside with large eyes in a pale face. At first she was too ill to notice him, drifting in and out of sleep while Morrigan and Orila argued over proper treatments. But after few days, as the world seemed to right itself again, Melori smiled at him and he came to sit on the side of her bed – usually armed with a book nearly bigger than he was and far too many questions for a drug addled elf. When Melori's answers became too bizarre and sleep-laden, Morrigan would shoo him back to his studies.

Worried, she would ask about Cole, but the only one who had an answer was Kieran, who said, "He asked mother to bind him, but she told him not to be an idiot. After that he tried to make her forget he'd asked. It didn't work."

She began to feel better as the week drew to a close. Morrigan's magic bolstering her own until the infection began to clear and soon she was sleeping deeply for hours on end, her breathing becoming clearer and more comfortable, her chest hurting less. The worry still clawed at the back of her mind, the feeling that she was drifting into unknown waters chasing through her dreams.

When the Inquisitor and everyone with her returned in the middle of the night, Dorian appeared in her doorway. He looked for all the world as though he'd done anything but just return from a long and arduous journey through the mountains, though there was a weariness in his eyes that he could not hide with fine clothes and a bath. Melori, reading one of Morrigan's books, looked up at the sound of a throat clearing, her eyes widening in surprise.

"Dorian!"

"Maker, I was quite sure I would find you dead, and now I'm not certain you are not. You look atrocious," he assured her, walking into the room and dropping onto her bed with a tired sigh. "And we missed you not at all."

"Do please tell me exactly how hideous I am again. I don't hear it enough," she laughed. "I suppose the ruin was a wash?"

"The ruin was …," he frowned, "Difficult. Strange. Full of whispers. Solas identified it as the Temple of Dirthamen," he answered, looking at her directly, the smile falling away. "And I'm _glad_ you weren't there. It was a hideous place. I had nightmares for a week after we left."

"Oh," she sighed, banishing the feeling of disappointment before it could take hold. "Well, I wouldn't have been much good anyway. When I first came back, they tried to make me stay in bed and ... I didn't. Which turned out badly. Since then, I've been reading my way through Morrigan's library," Melori answered. "She has several titles I'd thought lost forever."

"Fascinating," he said, peering at the title along the spine of the book she held. "Find anything good?"

"Well, we're fairly certain we know where Corypheus is heading, though I suspect Morrigan already knew," she answered, handing the book to him. It was the journal of a semi-successful expedition into the Arbor Wilds. "This is where we think he's headed. It's not a place anyone would wish to go, especially with an army, but I think we must."

"I will be certain to look through your notes in the study, if you wish," He promised, nudging her foot with his hand. "You really are looking far too thin and pale."

"I am better than I was," she promised. "And you? Are you well?

"Of course!" he smiled, pleased to be asked. "It was a marvelous adventure and now we are back where there are baths and books and hot cooked food. I am quite well." Climbing to his feet, he stretched and made his way to the door, turning as he reached the threshold. "Oh, by the way, if that other elf comes around, don't bother being polite. He's an uncultured arse."

Melori blinked after him for a long moment before remembering Illiam Selori and she bit her lip, trying to keep from laughing out loud while Dorian could still hear her.

* * *

The next night, Revas was lying across Melori's legs as she half-slept, half read from one of the books, trying to keep herself awake, but failing. Morrigan had given her the last of the sleeping draughts a little earlier, and while she had determined that she would stay awake long enough to finish the passage she was studying, her head kept nodding forward. When the door flew open, Revas leapt off her knees and ran out into the night, tail standing up like a flag, and she found Solas glaring at her with fury in his eyes, she wasn't sure if she were asleep or awake.

"Solas?"

"What possessed you to tell Cole he could be bound by the Venatori?" He asked, crossing the floor to the bed. "Do you know the damage you might have done to him?"

"My words were ill-considered," she confessed, clutching the book to her chest, a little frightened by the expression in his eyes. The desire to sleep had been chased away by shock and not a little dread.

"Yes. They were," he snapped, pacing between the door and the wall, pausing to stare at her. "That _you _were the source of his terror - I'm not certain if I am more disappointed than I angry."

"I ... I thought I was protecting myself. I know now that I was wrong," Melori answered. "I was not able to find him or explain."

He shook his head, back to pacing, "He asked me to _bind_ him. When I refused he tried to convince the Inquisitor to _make_ me bind him. You showed him fear, Melori. You are fortunate his current state is so stable."

"What do I do to make it right?" She asked, her voice thin and hoarse.

"We're going to find an amulet that will keep him safe from bindings," he said, coming to a halt beside the bed, taking a breath. "I never expected something so childish from you."

"_Ir abelas, Solas_," she said softly, meaning it with every fiber. "I am afraid of will happen to him."

He sighed and the bed dipped as he sat down. "Cole will return when he is ready. I do not think you did much damage."

"I ... I understand if you do ... not wish to keep me as a friend," she said, the words painful to say aloud. Her chest seemed to constrict as she spoke, but she forced herself to speak them. "I -"

"_Ma falon_," Solas said quietly, his shoulders rounding. "I would not have wasted my energy on anger if I were that fickle."

"Oh," she said feebly, putting the book aside and wiping at her eyes with her sleeves. "Are you certain Cole will be all right?"

"No, but I think it is likely he will be."

Melori nodded, looking up at him. "I'm glad you're back safely."

His lips twitched upward into a small smile and he nodded. "I should let you sleep."

"I don't know if I can now." But a yawn crept up on her and she sighed. "Ah ... I think I must."

* * *

The castle was busy over the following weeks. Scouts had been dispatched to the Arbor Wilds while Leliana's agents kept information flowing. As her health improved, Melori worked in the library, helping to process the sheer mass of information that was coming in from what the ever growing network of agents across Ferelden, Orlais, Antiva, and the rest of Thedas. She appropriated Dorian's chair while he was out, though she ended up sitting on the floor, more often than not, tucked between piles of communiqués, Revas curled in her lap.

When she had awakened several mornings in a row breathing easily and fully awake, no trace of a cough or ragged breath, Melori dressed in her leather coat and breaches, grabbed her weapons, and took herself down to the lists where Cassandra was already sparring in the ring.

It was not a long session. The Templar the Seeker faced had neither the speed nor the reach he needed to match her. Melori leaned against the fence, remembering watching Hugh and Cassandra go round and round the same area, both of them smiling fiercely as their swords clashed. Resting her staff against a fence post, she belted her sword around her hips, dismayed to find that it was loose around her waist. She'd lost too much weight while she'd been ill and nothing fit quite right now. Pulling the belt tighter, she looped it around and tied it off to the side.

"Melori!" Cassandra wasn't even breathing hard as she jogged across the sawdust covered sparring area. The Templar, on the other hand, was still trying to catch his breath. "I was uncertain that the healers would allow you to begin again."

"Orila told me to go carefully," Melori answered, climbing over the fence and sliding down to the sawdust. "But she allowed it. I'm not sure how long I'll last, but I think it will help to try."

"We will be cautious," the Seeker promised.

After ten minutes, Melori felt as though her sword weighed as much as one of Bull's Zweihanders, and, while her magic strengthened her, within thirty minutes she was covered in sweat, her knees and hands trembling. Cassandra appeared only lightly concerned. "You will need to do exercises every day to remind your body what it can do."

Melori spent another thirty minutes in the yard, going through forms with several soldiers, a Templar, and one of Cullen's lieutenants – all of whom were recovering from injuries. When they were finished, she promised to come back the next day and tottered through the courtyard and down the stable, heading for the kitchens and the baths and trying not to question her own sanity.

* * *

Skyhold was veritable beehive over the next month. The Inquisitor spent her time shoring up allegiances, seeing to repairs in various areas, and searching for anything that would help them defeat Corypheus. Meanwhile, troops were moving into position, traveling overland toward points around the borders of the Arbor Wilds.

Melori and the others working for Leliana were inundated with information and scrambled to make sense of it all. She spent her mornings and late afternoons in the sparring ring or going through forms and every other hour she wasn't asleep running or writing messages.

Every now and then Cullen would appear in the library late at night while she was working and she would find him something to read, to distract him from the demons haunting his sleep. He would linger with her some nights, talking about his family or to make an observation about the books she had lent him. Melori enjoyed those nights, distracted from the vague sensation that they were all sitting in the path of an oncoming avalanche.

She saw less of Dorian. He claimed that he'd been given charge of Illiam Soleri and she saw them around the grounds quite often, arguing loudly about everything from horses to nugs to the color of the Black Divine's breeches. Illiam seemed to take great pleasure in spurring Dorian's temper, and, Melori thought, Dorian seemed to take greater pleasure in the attention.

The days passed and she barely had time to think or dream or want for those now missing. She found herself telling Hugh and Caro about her day right before she went to sleep at night, and even about the distracting qualities of a certain scar.

* * *

It was early, the light bright and new over the castle grounds, and Melori was locked in a sparring match with Cassandra. Her strength was returning the more she practiced, and Cassandra was testing her, pushing a little harder every day until the mage was able to hold her own again. This day was no different, and Melori was breathing hard as they broke apart, blades ringing. Blood was trickling down the side of her head from an earlier strike and a missed dodge, but she ignored it.

"Oh," a svelte voice carried across the ring. "I do love a bout of barbarism in the morning."

Melori and the Seeker turned to find Lady Vivienne leaning elegantly against her staff. The mage's lips tilted into a smile. "It seemed a good idea to see what our… librarian has been up to. Busy little bee that she is."

"Regaining my strength, as you see," the librarian in question answered with the bow all the swordsmen gave at the end of their forms. "Though I will never be so formidable as our Lady Seeker."

"Ah, do you think not?" Vivienne's smile turned sharp. "I know a way in which you could withstand her skill _and _her strength. You're already using a portion of the power necessary, but I am afraid you have not been fully trained."

Cassandra and Melori exchanged glances and shrugged at one another. "I am intrigued, Lady Vivienne."

"I was hoping you would say that," the mage said, walking around the fence to the opening and entering the ring. She settled her staff to one side and waved Melori away. "As I was saying, this requires _proper_ training. Do watch with attention, my dear." She bowed to Cassandra, "Shall we, Lady Seeker?"

The sparring match that then occurred was something that ought to have been recorded, but Melori was too shocked to look for Varric. Cassandra attacked the mage and hit a wall of wards. Vivienne attacked with her spirit blade and met Cassandra's shield. They pressed one another back and forth across the ring, the mage evading so quickly it was difficult to see her , all while manipulating energy into shields that Cassandra could not break. Cassandra lost nothing in speed or power, she simply could not reach her opponent.

Melori had retreated to the fence to get out of the way and was staring in awe at the competition when she felt a hand on her shoulder and looked to find Cullen behind her, watching the sparring with a concerned expression. "You don't think they'll actually murder one another, do you?"

"I don't think it's possible," she answered, shaking her head. "I can see what Lady Vivienne is doing with her magic, but it's incredibly fast. By the time Cassandra is moving forward, Vivienne's already layered on another ward before any of the others can expire. Unless Cassandra uses some kind of Seeker trick soon, they're not going to harm one another until someone drops from exhaustion."

"Not a weak point between them?"

"You'd know better than I, but I don't believe so, no," she answered, shivering a little as Lady Vivienne flickered from view and appeared at Cassandra's flank. But the Seeker spun and blocked so quickly that no damage was done.

"Are you all right?" Cullen asked and she nodded absently.

"I'm fine … it's just, I've never seen magic used quite like that," she explained.

"Enara." He sounded both amused and exasperated. "You're bleeding."

"Oh!" she glanced at him and put a hand to her head. "Cassandra clocked me with the hilt of her sword earlier. I'm fine."

"Here," he passed her a handkerchief and she dabbed at her forehead until he laughed and moved her hand over to where the bleeding was. "Were you always this easily distracted?"

"No," She responded, dabbing at the bump with a wince. "Maybe … Probably."

Finally, the Seeker called a halt. Despite the violence they'd all just seen, Lady Vivienne looked as though she'd never heard of the terms wrinkle, sweat, or dirt and, though her elegant bosom was rising and falling rather more rapidly than usual, she looked cool and collected. Cassandra's armor still gleamed and, though she was breathing hard, her eyes were alight with energy. Melori envied them both.

"Now," Vivienne said, turning and making her way across the dusty ground. "What did you see, Enara?"

"Something I've never seen before," Melori answered. "You seemed to be cycling your wardings incredibly quickly while blocking her attacks with raw power. Oh … and you flickered out of sight. At first I thought you were moving incredibly fast, but I realized you were actually not there to be seen."

"Excellent. I will meet you here tomorrow then," the first enchanter smiled in that icy way of hers. "Please do not make me wait."

"Ah," Melori's eyes widened and she glanced past Vivienne to Cassandra, who shrugged. "I'm usually here just after breakfast, my Lady. Will that be early enough?"

"Yes, that will do nicely." Vivienne said, straightening her sleeves and turning to walk away. "Thank you, Lady Pentaghast. It was a pleasure."

"Did that just happen?" Melori asked Cullen, looking over her shoulder. "Because I'm now terrified to climb out of bed tomorrow."

"Why not refuse her?"

"_You_ could have done so, yes," Melori laughed, shaking her head and climbing over the fence to drop down beside him. "She knows where I sleep." *

* * *

The light in the library was dim, the candles having burnt low as people drifted off to bed. Dorian and Illiam could be heard arguing down the hall and Melori was dozing in the Tevinter mage's chair, one leg over the armrest, a pile of reports on the floor next to her chair. She heard footsteps on the stairs and opened her eyes to find Cole standing a few feet away, his pale face earnest.

"You're less loud now," he said.

"You came back!" She answered, pushing herself up into a sitting position. "Cole …"

"You were angry, but I _wanted_ you to be angry. If you boiled over, it would all come out, all the things you hide," He ducked his head. "I was wrong. I didn't know about the bindings."

"Cole," Melori sighed and stood up, peering at him. "I should not have told you about them."

"But if you hadn't, they would be able to bind me!" He said, looking back up at her. "But now they can't. Solas and the Inquisitor helped me."

"That's good! You're safe now!" She exclaimed, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders.

"But you aren't safe, not yet," he stared at her. "What if they try to bind you again?"

"I will make them wish they hadn't tried," Melori smiled.

* * *

.

* NOTE: Technically, everyone knows where Cullen sleeps.

NOTE II: Drunk Melori coming up soon!


	40. Chapter 40

_As if you were on fire from within  
The moon lives in the lining of your skin.  
~ _Pablo Neruda

.

* * *

"Melori."

The elf looked up from a pile of reports, blinking blearily over at Leliana who was smiling a little and nudging the scholar's foot beneath the table. They were in the rookery, going over the most recent messages from the field and Melori, who had started the morning with Vivienne, was about to fall off her chair. "Hmm? What? Did something new come in?"

"Go away," Leliana commanded, making a shooing motion with her hands. "You're making everyone else tired."

"Did I fall asleep?" Melori asked, alarmed. "I'm so sorry!"

"No no," the bard laughed softly. "But you've been yawning for an hour. Go get some sleep."

"That's not a bad idea," Melori answered, pushing back her chair and gathering her things. The light leaking through the narrow windows was turning gold as the sun set along the horizon. "Lady Vivienne is teaching me how to shield 'properly' and it's bloody exhausting."

"If it helps you survive, it will be worth the trouble," Leliana nodded. "You work very hard. Maybe take tomorrow for some rest? I will have one of the others finish up for you."

"Thank you," Melori smiled, making her way to the stairs. A yawn caught her midway and she laughed, yelling, "Sorry!" as she disappeared from view.

"Have fun!" Leliana called after her.

The library was quiet but for Dorian and Iliiam's bickering. She found them in the alcove, Dorian leaning against the window frame, a book in one hand, and Illiam a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest. Illiam was tall for an elf, his body lean and hard from years of use. He had a predatory look to him, though he laughed and smiled easily. Something about him was ever watchful, ready to spring. Around Dorian he was less guarded, looking amused and more relaxed.

"Are you finished with that book or do you need to go polish your cheekbones some more before we can leave?" Illiam drawled, a blonde brow lifted.

"Must you always be so disagreeable?" Dorian asked, snapping the book shut.

"You told Varric we'd join them at sunset, and the sun has set," Illiam answered. "And we still have yet to collect Melori."

"I'd be less inclined to be late if you would stop hounding me," the mage said, eyes going past Illiam to see Melori watching them with a grin she wasn't bothering to hide. "Apparently, Melori fetched herself."

"I'm helpful that way," Melori answered, putting her things down by Dorian's chair and turning to face them. "Where are we going?"

"The Tavern," Illiam answered before Dorian could speak, which earned him another glare. "Varric has requested we join him to celebrate."

"He wouldn't say what we were celebrating, however," Dorian explained. "He did insist we bring the 'Librarian'."

"Oh, well, then," she laughed. "I suppose I cannot refuse."

* * *

The tavern was quieter than usual, most of the regulars having been deployed to the field. But there were a few still there, including Bull's chargers and a blond elf Melori had seen here and there, but hadn't met directly. Varric was sitting at one of the long tables telling his tales, and Krem was making sure everyone had a tankard. When Melori entered, Krem nudged her toward Varric, "Nice to see ya in one piece, Ribbons."

"Librarian!" Varric exclaimed as she sat down next to him. "We've missed you!"

"Oh, really?" She laughed, "No one around who just drinks whatever you give her?"

"Well, there _is_ that," he admitted. "But this is more to say we're glad you're up and about finally."

Maryden, the minstrel, struck up a lively tune and the volume in the tavern increased as people laughed and talked. Somewhere near the middle of her third tankard, Melori felt hands on her boots and looked down to find the blonde elf trying to tie her laces together.

"They don't work so well that way," she observed.

"Well that's the point innit?" the other elf laughed, tugging Melori's foot closer so she could see it better.

"I'll turn you into a frog," Melori promised, remembering a story Morrigan had told her about her adventures as a witch of the wilds. "I'm a witch, you know."

"No, you're a librarian," The other elf laughed, wrinkling her nose.

"Hmm," Melori contemplated that seriously. "Maybe I'm both."

"Ooooh, I'm scared!"

"Who are you, anyway?" Melori asked as her laces were abandoned and the blonde wriggled up onto the bench between Illiam and herself.

"That's Sera," Varric answered before the elf could spin some story. Sera made a face at him and nudged Melori in the ribs with an elbow.

"You're one of them uptight elves, aren't ya?" she grinned.

Melori took a drink of her ale, thinking it over. "I don't know if I'd say _uptight_ ..."

"She's easily distracted," Illiam answered, chuckling into his drink. "Ask her something about a book and ... off she goes. Same with this one here." He nodded toward Dorian.

"I'll have you know-," Dorian began, but Sera had leapt up from the table to run to the tavern door. Melori stared after her and then looked at Varric with a raised brow. He just shook his head and chuckled.

"Don't ask me," the dwarf shrugged. "She's one of the Inquisitor's finds. Insanely good with a bow. Just insane the rest of the time."

"Ah," Melori nodded.

Bull joined the party sometime in the evening, laughing uproariously and toasting pretty much everyone. They'd killed a dragon a week earlier and he was in high spirits still. Krem rolled in another barrel and Melori lost count of her drinks. Bets and challenges were flying around the room - Krem danced the minstrel around the room while singing a sea shanty. Bull let Sera sit on his shoulder, where she was still sitting. Varric flatly refused to let his chest hair be fondled, but did acquiesce to telling a bawdy story. Someone challenged Melori to kiss the first person who walked in the door and she refused.

Illiam said, with an infuriating smirk, "Too uptight, are we?"

Melori tossed her braid over her shoulder and stood to her feet, swaying and pointed at Illiam, "Well at least I'm not tormenting the object of my affections!" though it came out a little less sensically than that. She still had the pleasure of seeing him flush to his ear tips before she made her way across the tilting floor to the tavern entrance where she stood with her hands on her hips till the door opened and a tall figure stepped inside.

Melori grabbed the front of the figure's armor and pulled him down to her height, catching a glimpse of Cullen's startled eyes and the scar on his lip a mere second before their lips touched. The tavern exploded with applause and cat calling, but, for a brief moment, her heart was pounding like a drum in her chest and Melori felt his hand close on her waist before she broke away, eyes very wide. Cullen stared at her, his color high, and then Melori made a squeaking noise and would have fallen over had he not had hold of her.

"Ah ... I ... oh ..." she gasped, not sure if she'd gone red or utterly pale.

"Well," he cleared his throat. "Enara ..."

"Curly! Come and have a drink with us!" Varric called out. Cullen looked away from her and Melori stepped back, not sure what to do next, her heart still thundering. She would have run out of the tavern, but Krem was laughing and pushing her back to the table. Sitting down with a thud, she noticed that Illium and Dorian were gone.

"I suppose I could have a drink," Cullen was saying, and then he had taken the seat beside her and she briefly wondered if she'd stumbled into a dream and would suddenly turn up naked in front of everyone. Clutching her tankard, she took a drink to hide her face, freezing when she felt his leg press against hers as he scooted over to make room for a newcomer.

"I hope I'm not too late," Scout Harding was saying.

"Not at all!" Varric laughed. "Always good to have more join the fun. Did I ever tell you about the time ..."

Melori didn't hear the story because Cullen had leaned over to whisper in her ear, his breath tickling in a way that shot electricity up her spine. "That was quite a greeting."

"I ... I ..." she ground to a halt, her wits fleeing on drunken wings like the griffons so many years before. "They dared me t'kiss the next person comin' in," she whispered. "I just ... I ... _fenehdis_. Um ..."

He chuckled and she glanced up at him, the fur on his collar hitting her nose. Melori sneezed and nearly fell off the bench, head reeling. "Oh ... dear."

"Careful," he said, grabbing her elbow and tugging her back into place. "How many have you had?"

"Uhh ... a lot," she nodded when she was balanced on the bench again. "Prob'ly too many. I have t'morrow off. Leli... Leli'na ... I have orders."

"You really do not handle your liquor well." He observed in amusement.

"Do _not_ impugn my abi... abilities to hold m'liquor, Ruth... Ruther.. ford," she glared, pointing at him. "I was _fine_ till I met the _dwarf._"

"Hey, what about me?" Krem called over to her from across the table.

"I was gettin' t'you," She answered, standing up from the table and onto the bench. Cullen put a hand on her back, his brows lifting. "I don't know what you ... you ... people are up to. But those two," she looked at Cullen while she pointed in random directions. "like to get me shit... shit faced. Utterly."

"I see," he said, somehow managing a solemn expression while everyone else at the table laughed and pounded the table. His lips quirking threateningly upward as though he were struggling not to join them.

"You're all really _lucky_," she said with a deep nod that nearly sent her toppling off the bench. The only thing keeping her upright was Cullen's hand on her back. For a moment, she wavered and then she clapped a hand over her mouth. He stood up and caught her round the waist with the nimbleness of the remarkably sober.

"Time to go," Cullen muttered.

* * *

They escaped into the cold night air, Cullen depositing her on the ground and waiting for the inevitable. When it became apparent that Melori was no longer threatening to lose her drink into the bushes, he walked her down to the well near the stables and drew a bucket of cold, fresh water. Melori eyed the bucket and sighed, using the nearby ladle to take several long drinks.

"Oh Creator help me," She muttered, putting both hands into the water and splashing her face. "I hate them all."

"Do you?" He asked, leaning against the side of the well.

"I do! Though ... let's see. What was it Solas did last time ..." She stared at her hands, watching as streams of warm green magic curled up from her fingers. It was difficult to do while drunk, but she felt the slow ebb of intoxication as the magic worked its way through her body. Her head cleared by degrees, still a little tipsy, but definitely not staggering anymore. "Ahh ... that's better."

"I did not know you could do that," He commented, offering her hand up.

"Lady Vivienne is insisting I learn, so I've asked Solas to show me the basics," she answered. "I'll never be a healer, not even a good one. But I can do a few things. One of the wards I'm learning can spread this sort of healing magic through a small group of people."

"Well done," He murmured. She took another drink of water and they put the bucket and ladle away before walking up the rise through the quiet courtyard. Melori had the nervous feeling that something was building, her cheeks flushing as they passed the gate house and began to climb the stair to the main courtyard, the stars brilliant and gleaming over their heads.

"I should apologize ... for before," she said, her fingers knotting together. "I imagine I took you by surprise."

"Well," he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck and shifting a little. "It wasn't a _bad_ surprise. I mean ... um ... you didn't put a bucket of water over the door. You just ... kissed ... me."

"Mm hmm," She glanced up at him. "I hope you weren't very offended? Especially that a _mage_ kissed you."

"Maker," he sighed, a smile turning up the corner of his lips. "No, I was hardly offended. If anything ...," he cleared his throat. "I would have liked to have kissed you properly."

"Oh." She stopped in her tracks, staring at him as the world shift beneath her feet. Somewhere, on another plane, she heard Caro cackling with laughter. "You would have? ... oh."

"Do remember," he said, stepping closer to her. "You started this."

"I did, didn't I?" she exhaled, tilting her head to look up at him, reaching out to hook a finger in armor he was still wearing, even this late at night. "Then, it seems a good idea to -"

His lips covered hers and she stopped speaking, clinging to the cool metal of his armor as their lips clung, his hands reaching round to her waist, the other cupping her head. In the cold air, his mouth was warm and soft, tentative. When he pulled away to catch his breath, she pulled him back, shivering from the heat pooling in her center, dizzy as the kiss deepened and their bodies pressed as close as his armor would allow. When they paused to catch breath, he pressed his forehead to hers .

"I wanted to do that the first night you showed up in my cabin," he confessed. "You were looking up at me with those eyes of yours. So passionate when you talked about Leliana and the secrets you were decoding."

"I remember," she answered breathlessly. "You gave me your cloak."

"And then you were with Vestor," he said quietly, paused. "Maker! Melori, forgive me ..." he began to pull away, but she shook her head, pulling him back.

"Hugh told me to follow you if we were separated, you know." Her voice caught and she swallowed, looking up at him. "I want this. I know I do ... and I can't think he would ask me not to want you - to be alone."

"You ...," he touched her cheek, feather light, his gaze troubled. "I am not the man I should have been. You know that better than most."

"I'm not afraid of you anymore," Melori whispered, pulling him closer. He did not resist, his head bending as she pressed up against him. "You are changed by your conscience and your faith. What more could anyone ask of you?"

"I thought you believed in the elven gods," he smiled, lips a breath from hers.

"Mythal protects me," she answered, kissing him lightly. "I follow the path of the Creator, but...," she set another kiss upon his lips, teasing a little. "I know the Chant of Light too well...," another kiss, "to discount it _entirely_."

"Maker," he breathed, and any further words were lost between them.

* * *

At breakfast the next morning, Melori sat in a corner of the Great Hall and tried not to smile like an idiot. She'd kissed him until they were both nearly drunk with it, laughing and talking and finally bidding one another a lingering good night at the doors to the Hall before she tore herself away and up to her room. Sleep had been a long time coming, and she'd caught maybe an hour or two at most. Every time she remembered how he'd pressed her close, or the way he breathed "Maker" between kisses, or the way his eyes had smiled, she found herself wandering off into a daze, her breakfast growing cold.

"Melori," Cassandra was nudging her with an elbow. "MELORI!"

"What? I'm sorry! What?" she asked, coming back down to earth with a thud.

"You were off in a daydream," the Seeker said slowly, her eyes looking her up and down slowly. "You do not appear feverish. Are you feeling all right?"

"Oh, I'm quite all right," Melori answered, unable to keep the smile from curving her lips. She ducked her head over her breakfast, taking a bite of cold porridge and wincing. "Well, I'd be better if I hadn't let breakfast go cold."

"I see," the Seeker turned back to her own breakfast, but not before giving Melori another look and shaking her head. "Did you get a bruise in sparring yesterday? There's a mark on your neck."

Her hand clapped to her neck and Melori felt her pale skin going scarlet. "Oh, probably. I dropped my guard at the wrong point ..." her voice trailed off as a familiar face appeared at the end of the hall and Cullen made his way between the tables to where they were sitting. "Commander," she said, feeling as though the night before had possibly been a dream.

"Enara," he said, smiling as he walked around the table and slid into his seat. "Cassandra."

Cassandra looked between them, her eyes narrowed. "Maker preserve us all," she muttered. "You finally did what Leliana's been pushing you to do for the last month or more?"

"Uh ... well," Cullen went red around the ears and cleared his throat, obviously resisting the urge to rub at his neck. "I have no idea what you mean."

"He wants to kiss her again," Cole said, lifting his head from where he was crouched near the fireplace beside them. None of them had noticed him there until that moment and they all jumped in shock, both Cullen and Cassandra automatically going for their blades. They relaxed when they realized it was Cole, but Melori had her face in her hands, her ear tips a brilliant shade of pink.

"Cole ..."

"But you liked it when he kissed you!"

.

* * *

Note: _It's not over yet! _


	41. Chapter 41

"_I am so thirsty for the marvelous that only the marvelous has  
power over me. Anything I cannot transform into something  
marvelous, I let go. Reality doesn't impress me. I only believe  
in intoxication, in ecstasy, and when ordinary life shackles  
me, I escape, one way or another. No more walls." _~ Anaïs Nin

.

* * *

The undercroft would have been chilly without the constant heat of the forges. Melori shook her arms and looked down at herself, admiring the lovely weave of the new robes, metal gleaming in the thread of the layered tunic and the sash wrapped tight at her waist. Underneath it lay a webbing of light, silverite chain and the soft material of the lining beneath that. The front panel of cloth was embroidered with the Inquisition symbol. New boots fitted up past her knees, belted around the thigh with space for daggers. All of it in shades of very dark blue and silver. Her staff was in the care of the Arcanist, who bent over her table murmuring to herself as she worked.

"Dagna," Harritt said as he pulled on the armor piece fitted onto Melori's shoulder, "should almost be finished."

"Thank you," she answered. "I wasn't expecting new armor or anything regarding my weapons."

"Well," he shrugged lightly. "Lady Vivienne insisted that you be outfitted properly, considering you were heading into the thick of things, and the Nightingale approved the requisition."

"Ah, well, I suppose they have a point. My last set looks like a druffallo trod on it ... and then chewed on it," she admitted. "This, though ... it's more elven than I expected."

"The Inquisitor came back with the patterning for it and it seemed well suited for someone who needs t'use both staff and blade," he explained. "That an' Dagna's been achin' to build a set for someone. You're the lucky one."

"Don't let him sell himself short," Dagna commented, turning around with the staff in her hand. "He built that armor, all I did was make sure it was ... better. As for this, I've tweaked it a bit, added a new grip, gave it a better blade, and added another rune stone. Should help with the spirit energy you'll be using."

"Oh," Melori took the staff in her hand and weighted it, smiling as it rested comfortably in her hand. She summoned one of wards Vivienne had taught her and gave a little gasp as the energy flowed through her with liquid force, guided by the rune embedded in the staff. "Creator ...!"

"You like it?" Dagna asked, bouncing forward onto her toes, her hands clasped in front of her. "I was trying to imagine what a storm mage would find useful, and then they said you were a Knight Enchanter, as well. That's when things became interesting."

"I do like it! This is lovely," Melori exclaimed. "I suppose my sword was less interesting ..."

"Oh, that! Well, yes," Dagna chuckled. "We scrapped that. Lady Pentaghast said you needed a light blade, and then Lady Vivienne found out and told me how you'd be using it. So I did a little of this and a little of that, honed the edge, annnnnd ..." she went to the wall and took down a sheathed blade, "This is what happened!"

Harritt took the staff from Melori and she accepted the blade from Dagna, biting her lip as she pulled it from the sheath. Whatever she had expected, the long, gleaming length of burnished black metal was not it. The thing seemed to humm with electric power, flickering when her hand closed on the hilt. Harritt actually backed away a step.

"_That_ is something new," Dagna smiled. "Forged from refined fade-touched stormheart and veridium with an obsidian grip. I crafted a lightning rune for it and, well ... it's yours now."

"My hair is starting to stand up all over, isn't it?" Melori asked, feeling the energy running through her body. She sheathed the blade and tried to pat the wayward curls back into place.

The arcanist giggled, "When you use that in battle, I've got a feeling you're going to glow. A lot. Like a lightning rod atop a tower."

"Good to know!"

"Well, you're all set then," Harritt said, handing the staff back to her with rather more caution than it deserved. "Remember, we expect to see you back here if you've got any questions."

"Yes," Dagna agreed. "And if you find anything interesting out there, we take everything: bones, blades, bits of things - anything I can test, really. And the weirder it is, the better!"

"I'll bring you whatever looks interesting," Melori promised. "Make sure you get me a list of things to look out for before I go, all right? I don't want to bring you back junk."

The dwarf's eyes grew round and shining. "You'd do that? Really?"

"Well ... yes? Why wouldn't I? The more you know, the more_ I_ know," Melori laughed.

* * *

The stairs from the undercroft to the throne room were a little steep, so Melori took the steps slowly until she achieved the throne room. The new armor looked formidable and didn't rub at her the way her old armor had, and the staff felt at home in her hand. The sword she didn't dare draw in public or indoors. Crossed the Great Hall through the throng of visitors who had taken up residence in the castle, Melori noted the whispers as she passed, feeling as though she must cut an intimidating figure with the way they were looking at her, which was a novel experience.

In the morning they would be leaving the castle and traveling west and south into the Arbor Wilds, which brought on tangle of anticipation and anxiety. None of the expeditions traveling into the heart of that forest had ever escaped alive. She'd read treatises on the place both from the Chantry's archives and books Dorian had acquired from Tevinter sources. That Morrigan's library promised the Temple of Mythal lay in that area of forest was on its own enough to draw Melori's attention, but to have a possible eluvian there, as well?

"_You should talk to Morrigan before you go," _Revas said, sitting on the balcony wall outside her bedroom, his tail curling. "_She knows more than she's letting on."_

Glancing both ways before she replied, Melori opened the door and let herself into her bedroom, muttering, "That's hardly a surprise."

"_She's up to something_," the cat answered, leaping up onto the bed while she peeled off the new armor, but by bit. "_The boy says he has strange dreams. Do you know anything of his birth?"_

"Morrigan would only say his father was a good man," Melori answered, standing in the center of the room in her padding and under clothes. "Is there something I should know about him?"

Revas stared at her with one of his particularly sardonic cat gazes. "_How did the Hero of Ferelden survive the battle with the Arch Demon?"_

"She ... killed it?" Melori ventured, her hands on her hips, brow furrowed as she considered what she knew of Arch Demons and wardens. "But ... no. That's not possible."

"_You've got it now_," Revas sat back on his haunches, tail curled neatly over his front paws. "_Dragon souls are ...?"_

"Old gods corrupted by the Blight, aren't they?" She paced the room, no longer watching him. "Every warden who has ever killed an Arch Demon has died, that I can recall. But not this one. Surana lived. Are you saying Morrigan had something to do with that?"

"_You should ask her_. _Her son said his mother will_ wake the next Age._ That seems like something you waking folk would be curious about._"

"Wake the ... what? That seems like the sort of thing she would evade," Melori replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

"_She told the Inquisitor part of it_," He answered. "_Of course, if she doesn't want to answer your questions, there's always the Grimoire."_

_"_Grimoire? What grimoire?"

"_Oh, just a book she stole from Irving. For a while, I was attached to it, trying to influence someone to wedge it open just for a peek. Her mother, Flemeth, used to tease me with the thing, telling me all her secrets lay inside. I followed it till Irving got hold of it and stayed till the Hero of Ferelden stole it back. I found I could not leave the tower after that and ended up part of your Harrowing." _he lifted a paw and began to wash with a casual air.

"Flemeth ... the actual Witch of the Wilds? _Asha'Bellanar_? _That's_ Morrigan's mother?" Melori sat down on the bed abruptly. "And you _know_ her?"

He flicked his tail at her coyly. "_Ask her, find the grimoire ... but do it soon. It's important."_

* * *

The garden was nearly empty of people that evening when Melori found Morrigan in the gazebo, a book open on her knees and a cup of tea at her elbow. It was cool at that time of day, but the apostate did not seem to mind, her dark hair ruffling now and then in the breeze, slim fingers turning the pages of the book as she read. When Melori got to the steps of the gazebo, Morrigan said, not looking up, "You have the look about you of someone who wants to ask me something unpleasant."

"Oh, well ... it might be," Melori answered, taking a seat opposite her. "If you can spare a moment?"

"I know you well enough now to say yes with no fear that it will be boring," Morrigan smiled, folding her book closed on a finger. "What is it you want?"

"You know about my cat, yes?"

"Of course," Morrigan nodded. "Kieran finds him quite entertaining. They have long conversations when he ought to be studying."

"Revas told me to ask you how the Hero of Ferelden survived the battle with the Arch Demon in Denerim," Melori said baldly. As far as she could tell, the best way to communicate with Morrigan was to be as blunt and open as possible without being offensive about it. She hoped it would work. "He says it's important to find out before we leave for the Arbor Wilds."

"How curious," Morrigan murmured, her skin gleaming palely in the swiftly darkening night. "Your _pet_ is remarkably well informed for a spirit."

"He claims to have known your mother," Melori answered, folding her hands in her lap. She noted how still Morrigan's body became at that and said, carefully. "He is, as far we can tell, a curiosity spirit ... or something of that nature. In other words, nosier than he ought to be, but not often wrong."

"I see."

" I am sorry if I have gone too far with the question."

"I am not offended as _I _would have asked the same," Morrigan answered, her teeth flashing a smile. "And we are friends of a sort, are we not?"

"I hope so," Melori answered, lips curving. "You've already let me read your books and helped me survive my own stupidity. And, even given great evidence that I am a fool, you still seem happy to see me."

"Oh, I have known greater fools," Morrigan murmured, laughing a little. "Speaking of whom, if you wish to know how the Hero - my friend - survived the Arch Demon, I must tell you of the greatest fool I know. You know him already."

Melori stared at Morrigan, eyes widening as the pieces fell into place. "You _cannot_ mean ...!"

"Oh, if you could only see your face right now," Morrigan chuckled. "I do indeed refer to Alistair."

"But ..."

"But he is Surana's husband? Oh, yes. And she was desperate to remain with him," Morrigan explained, placing her book on the table between them. "When an Arch Demon dies, the spirit within it transfers to the nearest creature bearing the Blight. Most cannot survive the transfer and expire; however, there is a method that does not destroy spirit or bearer."

Melori felt the blood draining from her face. "You ... how?"

"The Wardens become what they are by partaking of blighted blood - possibly that of an Arch Demon. If they survive they are able to fight darkspawn without fear of becoming tainted themselves. But it has another quality." Morrigan looked away, out into the darkening garden, which felt strange and ominous to Melori as the shadows lengthened. "It makes the wardens targets of the old god's soul, and because they are not proper receptacles for such power, they die."

"So, you created a ... proper receptacle." Melori's voice had gone flat, her fingers clenching together tightly. Whatever she had imagined Morrigan would tell her, this had not been it.

"Through the ceremony, we were able to find a way to pass on the spirit of the Old God to the child. It is what kept both of the wardens alive when the Arch Demon fell," Morrigan explained. "Kieran is that child."

They sat there for a space. Morrigan took a drink from her cup, and Melori attempted to wrap her mind around it all, clearing her throat after a time and saying, very carefully. "Your son bears the soul of an old god ... or an ancient high dragon. And your mother is _the_ Flemeth from the tales?"

"That is what I have been told all these many years," Morrigan answered calmly, evasively, though she smiled.

"I must confess," Melori said. "I now have more questions than I did when I asked the first."

That won her a surprised laugh. "That is ever the way of things, I fear."

"I think I may have met your mother in a dream once," Melori mused. "It makes sense now, if Revas knew her from before I met him. Or perhaps I've run completely mad, which I think might be a better answer." She rose, shaking her head. "Just, one question, before I go. Why did you do it?"

"Well, there were many reasons," Morrigan said, her voice softening. "Not least was saving the life of a friend. Still, one of my aims was to preserve something that would otherwise be lost. The spirit of Urthemiel is a worthy aim, don't you think?"

The elf paused, head tilting as a thought occurred to her. "Are you certain that's what it is? _Who_ it is?"

"I suppose I will have to wait for Kieran to grow up and tell me," Morrigan answered.

* * *

Melori bade the other mage good night, leaving the garden with something nearing a headache. Instead of returning to her room, she turned through the door leading to the Atrium where Solas worked on his murals, taking a seat on the couch and watching him paint. After a while, he stopped to clean his brushes and saw her there, lost so deeply in thought she did not notice he had stopped working. Rather than disturb her, he finished his task and put his tools away, sitting down at his desk to go over the research there.

"Solas?"

"Yes, _ma folon?_"

"Why are the old gods dragons? Is that what they were before? Or is it a function of the Blight?"

She was still staring at the mural, eyes flicking over the various images and didn't see the startled look he gave her. Solas stood and walked over toward her, hands folded behind his back. "Strange thoughts on the night before a journey."

Her eye flicked toward him, her lips twisting as she tried to put what she was thinking into words. "How do the darkspawn know to go after the dragons? Few of them are _that_ intelligent without an Arch Demon already leading them. Is it something like Corypheus calling them? Some overriding intelligence perhaps. But..." she rubbed at her forehead. "Corypheus may have called an Arch Demon, so he could have done it, I suppose, but surely he hasn't been summoning the Blights for two thousand years? Something doesn't fit and I can't tell what it is."

"If I had the answer to those questions," Solas answered, "we would soon have the solution to the Blight."

"I suppose we would," she shook her head. "I had a recent conversation with Morrigan that has my head spinning."

"I see."

"It's a giant puzzle and half the pieces are hidden across the world," she said with a sigh, climbing slowly to her feet. "I'm sorry to bother you."

"You did not," he answered, watching her as she paced around the edges of the room toward the stairs leading up to the library. "Good night, Melori."

She smiled over her shoulder at him, "Good night, Solas."

* * *

The library was nearly empty at this hour, everyone having gone down to dinner or to rest. Melori walked among the shelves and stopped in a corner, crouching down to find a copy of a book they'd found at Adamant detailing the First Blight. The flickering candle light made it difficult to see the titles on the bottom shelf. When she finally located it, she gave a small cry of victory and pulled it from the shelf. A cough caught her attention and she turned her head to find Cullen standing near the railing, watching her with a smile. Melori flushed and stood up, holding the book to her chest.

"I ... it was difficult to find," she stammered as he approached. "I didn't think I'd see you with everything going on."

"I only just got away," he explained, rubbing the back of his neck. "So many reports coming in from all directions. I had to shut everything down just to get something to eat."

"You need a secretary," she grinned, leaning back against the wall as he looked over the books on the shelf.

"I have three," he said ruefully. "But we're doubly busy with all our forces in on the march. We'll be riding faster than the troops can move tomorrow in order to get to the Arbor Wilds ahead of them. I hope you are ready for a rough journey."

"Are there other kinds?" she asked with a laugh. "What I wouldn't give for a long walk through a greenwood with nothing but halla and rabbits." *

"I seem to recall at least one leisurely journey in my youth," he chuckled. "A long, long time ago. I believe it ended with me joining the Order. What were you looking for?"

"Just a book on the First Blight. I thought I'd stop by and search while there were a few hours yet before I _must_ finish packing. Seeing you here has made it entirely worth the trouble," she explained, feeling her cheeks heating more with the admission. She imagined her face must be entirely red at this point. "Cullen ..."

"Did you ..."

They laughed and she saw him take a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing. "I haven't had a chance to really talk to you after the other night. Do you still ...?"

"If you still don't mind that I'm ... a mage," she answered, gripping the book more tightly. "I thought I'd imagined it all when I woke up the next morning. Until Cole, that is."

"And here I thought you were a librarian," he teased her, lips curving to one side in a way that caught the eye, and Melori tried very hard to stare at something else - which didn't help. He was completely distracting.

"I'm learning that it's not always bad to be known for... other things," she admitted, looking up at him.

"I can think of a few," he murmured, his hand running along her jaw as he bent his head to kiss her.

* * *

.

* _There is a Codex that mentions Rabbits! I found it! So there are secretive bunnies in Thedas! ((it's the little things))_

NOTE:_ And somewhere, down in the Atrium, Solas is rolling his eyes._


	42. Chapter 42

_When we hold each other, in the darkness, it doesn't make the darkness go away.  
The bad things are still out there. The nightmares still walking. When we hold each  
other we feel not safe, but better. "It's all right" we whisper, "I'm here, I love you."  
and we lie: "I'll never leave you." For just a moment or two the darkness doesn't  
seem so bad. ~_ Neil Gaimon

.

* * *

Even on the edges, the Arbor Wilds were hot and damp. Melori found herself beyond grateful for the lighter armor Dagna and Harritt had created for her because, unlike almost everyone else in the party, she was not nearly as uncomfortable. They rode for over a week, stopping at various camps along the way and staying on the grounds of the Orlesian lords who supported the Inquisition - none of whom wished to anger the Empress. The party grew as allies joined them and progress slowed the closer they came to the forest, but they arrived on schedule, thanks to Commander Cullen's urging and Josephine's diplomacy.

Melori fielded incoming Ravens from Leliana along their route and studied the ruins they passed. Morrigan and Kieran rode with Josephine and the Inquisitor near the middle of the party, while Cullen rode more toward the front. The others were scattered among the various support staff and allies who joined them along the way. Melori found herself riding with Morrigan through most of the journey, speaking in low tones about the ruins they passed as they entered the forest.

"The Temple of Mythal, most certainly then," Morrigan said as they neared the forward camp. "Not surprising, considering what it is Corypheus seeks. Still, I had not thought ever to see it. It has always been too dangerous to attempt it alone."

"You know some detail of it, then?"

Bright gold eyes met hers and the witch's lips curved. "Only what I have read and studied. It was abandoned after the fall of Arlathan and is our best hope of finding another eluvian."

"From the reports, that is where Corypheus is headed, so you're most likely correct," Melori nodded, exhaling. "Curious to come so far to see _her_ temple – I hope it survives the battles ahead."

"We shall see," Morrigan replied, spurring her horse ahead toward Kieran's, her head bending as she spoke with the child. Melori watched her with a frown, biting into her lower lip as she remembered what Revas had said back in Skyhold. It wasn't just that the witch was up to something, it was the knowledge the woman had, as well. Her eyes shifted to Kieran, the child who carried and old god's soul within his fragile frame. Whatever Morrigan was doing, it was enough to set Melori's nerves on edge with worry.

"Everything all right?" The Inquisitor asked.

"Yes, my Lady," Melori answered, forcing a smile around the words she could not say, not now – probably not ever. "Quite well, actually. I believe we're almost there."

* * *

They rested at the forward camp that evening, if one could call it resting. Melori spent most of it in the midst of the ravens and agents, passing out messages and supplies, taking notes, and sending Leliana updates. It was late when she finally stumbled toward her tent with her bags, staff, and sword. She was halfway there when stubbed her toe on a root and hopped around on one foot, cursing in at least three separate languages. And stopped abruptly when she saw Kieran's pale face blinking up at her from the shadowy path.

"You know quite a lot of words," he commented. "I don't think mother would like me saying them, though."

"Probably not," she agreed, one hand on a tree trunk as she set her foot back on the ground. It hurt, but not terribly. "What are you doing out here in the dark?"

"Your cat said you wanted to see my mother's book," Kieran said simply, and she realized he was holding something like a journal against his chest. "He said you wanted to know why we are here."

"My ... cat? What?" She blinked at him. "Revas? He's back at Skyhold."

"He's not," Kieran said, pointing toward the camp fires beyond the trees. "He rode along with Cole and they're at the fires now."

"Oh."

"You didn't know your cat was here?" He asked, laughing, which made her smile.

"It's a cat, they don't really _belong_ to anyone, do they?" Melori answered, resting her things on the ground. "You _really _brought me your mother's grimoire? You do realize she'd be furious if she found out, yes?"

"She's never that angry with _me_," he explained, shrugging, bright eyes finding Melori's. "And you don't have to _tell_ her."

"Thus beginning a long and convoluted journey into deception and regret, hmm?" Melori shook her head. "There are things in that book that I imagine your mother does not want anyone else to see. She's a little terrifying, you know."

"Of course she is. My mother is 'The Inheritor,' he said. "She will wake the next age.* _Everyone_ is afraid of her, really. They'd be afraid of me, too, if they knew."

"'The Inheritor'?" Melori echoed him, frowning. "Why would people be afraid of you?"

"They fear the next age if it comes too soon," he shrugged, tilting his head as he studied her. "Your blood is very old."*

Her lips twitched into a smile. "I'm an elf, we've been walking Thedas for a long, long time."

"Do you want the book?" He asked, holding it out toward her. "Revas said it is important."

"Do you think I ought to take it?" she asked, watching his face carefully.

He thought about it over for a long moment, brow furrowed when he shook his head. "You'd do better in the Temple. There are secrets there."

"Then that is where I will go," she answered, then paused. "May I see the book for a moment? I will give it back, I promise."

Kieran nodded and handed it to her, Melori taking it carefully in both her hands. It was an old thing, bound in leather of some sort – though she couldn't tell what kind – with a leafless tree delicately stitched into the cover. A scent of herbs and wood smoke still clung to it as she lifted it, staring at the branching pattern for a long moment before lifting her left hand to the _vallaslin_ on her forehead. It made her feel a little afraid to look at it and Melori frowned downward, turning the book over in her hands before giving it back to Kieran, unopened.

"You don't want to read it?" he asked.

"I very much want to read it," She answered, swallowing. "But I think that that book was not meant for me."

* * *

After Kieran had gone, Melori walked to the camp with her things. Cole was sitting hear the fire with Revas on his lap, and she shot the cat a look as she tried to figure out which was the tent she'd been assigned. There was a system to it, apparently, but not one she recognized – and it didn't help that her head was still buzzing from her recent conversation with Kieran. The tents were all taller than she was and after wandering for a few minutes she returned to the campfire to find help.

On the way there, she heard her name called and found one of the scouts hurrying across the grass towards her. "There you are, my lady!"

"Did you need me for something?" Melori asked, concerned.

"Some of the Orlesian military commanders arrived sooner than expected and the tents had to be rearranged. I promised I'd let you know right away," the girl said. "The Commander said you wouldn't mind."

"Mind what?" Melori asked, following along as the girl turned around to lead her the other way. She noted they were heading toward the center of the camp again and looked around, confused. "Please tell me what I won't mind?"

"Oh! Um, he said you wouldn't mind sharing. I think there was space left in Lady Vivienne's tent."

"Please tell me this is a jest," Melori pled. "Have you _seen_ her? I'm far to grimy to share a tent with Madame de Fer of all people."

"That's not true, my Lady." The scout assured her, though she did giggle a little.

The tent to which Melori was led was over to the side, just behind the Inquisitor's and did not look particularly like anything inhabited by Lady Vivienne. There were a few cots, two armor stands, and nothing else. Melori stopped and turned in a circle, looking at the scout with a raised brow. "This is the tent? You're certain?"

"Yes, my Lady," the girl nodded. "When I asked Lady Pentaghast, she said this was your tent."

"All right then," Melori answered, laughing a little and setting her things down on one of the cots as the girl left. She then headed back out to the nearby campfire where Cassandra and Vivienne were having a lively argument over the future of the Circles.

"Ah! Here we are!" Vivienne exclaimed upon seeing Melori. "A perfect example of a proper Circle education! Certainly with better oversight, Enara's experiences in the Circle would have improved with time. A Divine with such insight could change these things for the better!"

"You're using _me_ as an example of a proper Circle education?" Melori asked, blinking at them in shock. "I ran away to the Korcari Wilds at the first opportunity rather than stay in that tower a moment longer…"

"I was thinking that myself," Cassandra chuckled. "Melori would have been hunted down by templars in less turbulent days."

"My Dear," Vivienne smiled. "The main reason you have survived so well is that you had the correct foundation. What else has protected you from falling to the wiles of the demons or the lure of blood magic?"

"Common sense? Traumatic exposure to a great many abominations and maleficarum?" Melori answered. "I learned more in three years with a Dalish Keeper than I ever did in the Tower. I was fortunate to be given a Harrowing, everyone who knew me in the Circle thought I'd be made tranquil due to lack of ability."

The two women blinked at her. Cassandra said, very carefully, "You were to be made tranquil?"

"It was discussed," Melori shrugged, a bitter taste in her mouth as she said it. "It was soon after the maleficarum almost destroyed Kinloch Hold, after all. The more made tranquil the better. Fortunately, Irving was not of that opinion; without his help, I would likely be a skull on a stake right now, pointing the way toward those shards the Inquisitor has been collecting."

"That is ... disturbing to hear," the Seeker said.

"Isn't it?" Melori laughed. "Most Circle mages never leave their towers and never without Templars all around – as though mages are given to sudden combustion or accidental blood magic. You're not exactly typical of Circle mages either, Lady Vivienne."

"An interesting perspective, Enara," Vivienne nodded, long fingers tapping the edge of her camp chair. That particular conversation was clearly over.

"Did you find your tent?" Cassandra asked, glancing up at her.

"Um," Melori glanced at Vivienne and back at the Seeker. "I think so. The scout seemed convinced, in any case."

"I thought you would want to be nearer to the center of things, since you are organizing Leliana's correspondence," Cassandra explained.

"Thank you," she nodded. "I think ... um ... I'm just going to go to sleep. Good night, Seeker, Lady Vivienne."

* * *

Melori was debating kicking off the covers in the middle of the night. The weather had not cooled and lying beneath a layer any thicker than a single sheet was vastly uncomfortable, even when she'd stripped down to her undershirt and shorts. She slipped one foot out into the cooler air and sighed in relief as she debated the practicality of an ice spell beneath the cot. Finally, even her foot had grown too warm, so she flipped over onto her stomach and peered over the edge of the cot, her braid hitting the floor to one side.

"Mmm," she hummed to herself, spreading a hand over the canvas bottom of the tent and pressing it to the floor. Power flared and spread, crackling and shimmering as ice crystals fled from her fingers along the floor until it had covered the space beneath the cot and then a little more. Flopping back over onto her back, she stretched out, grinning a little as bottom of the cot cooled.

Her eyes drifted shut and she rolled over onto her side, sliding one foot out above the newly cool air. The insects humming outside seemed less loud now and she felt herself slipping across the divide into sleep. She had just dropped into dreaming when something brought her awake again. She lay there listening and heard someone moving about the tent in the dark.

When she heard the familiar voice going over the Chant of Light, she smiled sleepily, waiting till he finished before she said, quietly, "Cullen?"

"Maker!" he exclaimed, startled. She could see him, in the dim tent, standing in his shirt sleeves, cloak and cuirass hanging on the armor stand. "Melori?"

"The Orlesians took my other tent and this is where Cassandra put me," she said muzzily. "How'd you find me?"

"Cassandra said that this was _my _tent," he answered. "I didn't even realize you were there till you spoke."

"Do I need to leave?" she asked, still half asleep. "Maybe the scout showed me the wrong one …"

"I think it would be wiser to stay where you are," he answered, and she heard the amusement in his voice. "Go back to sleep. We've got a long day ahead of us in the morning."

Lying back down, she pulled the sheet over her shoulder and listened to him moving around as he put his things away and prepared to sleep. She was halfway there herself, her breathing deep and even when she heard the cot creak beneath him as he laid down on the other side of the tent.

* * *

The hallway was long and circular, stone tiles beneath her feet and high ceilings arched over her head. She knew, in some offhand way, that this was an old, familiar dream. She could hear the instructors in the library, felt the eyes of the Templars watching her as she passed, making her through the library and up the stairs, past the tranquil and into the hall toward Irving's office. It all seemed so normal – another day in the tower, mages learning magery, Templars watching for demons and maleficarum.

Her knuckles knocked on the door to the office. Irving smiled and told her to go upstairs. She would become a mage today, but there was a test. A secret that everyone in the tower knew, even the younger mages who weren't supposed to know at all. Melori left the office and climbed the stairs to the floor where the Harrowing took place. The stairs seemed so long as she made her way to the upper floor, but she finally got to the top, pausing at the top of the stair by the cracked door.

"She should have been made tranquil, Irving!" Greagoir said, his arms crossed over his chest. "I don't know what you mean by letting every one of them go through this circus! It is cruel!"

"You are mistaken about the girl's abilities," Irving had spoken, slowly and kindly. "To cripple the girl as you suggest would be criminal."

"But what if she desires more magic than is her lot and turns to blood magic?" the Knight Commander insisted. "You know as well as I that it is those mages who are less gifted than the rest who are most tempted! The power blood magic offers is too much for them to resist."

In some dreams, she opened the door, crossed the room, and joined the Harrowing as she had done in reality. In others, Melori stepped into the room, shutting the door behind herself, and heard blades leaving sheathes, or she found herself alone in the room with Uldred as he murdered her teachers and came for her himself, his demonic form looming until she screamed herself awake.

This time Melori turned from the door and ran, robes lifted in one hand, the other hitting the door flat-palmed as she nearly fell down the stairs and skidded across tiles. The double doors of the tower were standing wide and open and she found herself on the green area at the base, the spire looming high overhead. The deep, dark waters of Lake Calenhad greeted her, impassable and opaque. There was a sound of metal and armor behind her, and she turned to find the Templars arrayed outside the doors of the tower, Greagoir at their head.

"You must be harrowed," he said in his stern way. "Or you will be made tranquil."

There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, but they were all in armor and the water lapped the heels of her shoes. Melori walked backward into the cold lake, felt it rising as she moved, heard them calling out to her, but kept moving until the bottom fell out from beneath her feet and she was drifting into the abyss. Something large and black loomed beneath her and she struggled, twisting and gasping. Water filled her lungs and she kicked, hard...

The floor woke her as she tipped her cot over and spilled in a tangle of blankets to the floor, gasping for breath as though she actually had been about to drown. The ground beneath the tent was harder than she'd anticipated and the air was cooler now, she sighed and winced, sitting up slowly.

"We woke each other," Cullen said, his voice muffled with sleep.

"You, too?" Melori asked, looking toward his voice. As her eyes adjusted, she saw him sitting up in his cot, his hands across his face.

"The lyrium withdrawal," he explained, his voice hollow. "Dreams are always nightmares now, worse without it."

"Oh, no." Untangling herself from the blankets, Melori made her way over to him, surprised when he shifted to make room for her. She tucked herself into the narrow space, her back pressed tight against his chest as his arms moved around her. "I knew what happened when someone stopped taking lyrium, but I didn't realize about the nightmares."

"This helps," he admitted, his fingers threading with hers. "It wasn't as bad as it could have been tonight. What were you dreaming?"

She laughed softly. "My harrowing. I dreamed I drowned myself in Lake Calenhad to escape being made tranquil."

His fingers tightened on hers and he exhaled sharply. "Melori ..."

"When I went up to the Harrowing chamber," she explained. "I overheard Greagoir arguing with Irving. Tonight, it came up with Cassandra and Vivienne. I brought it on myself."

"Try to sleep some more?" he suggested, laying a kiss on the back of her neck. "I'll guard you from the nightmares."

"If I can sleep at all with you doing ... that," she answered, with a shiver.

* * *

.

* _This is from Kieran's dialogue in game._

NOTE_: I don't know what's in Flemeth's Grimoire, so we're not going to open it. B/c … I don't know what's in it. HOWEVER, I do know what the cover looks like. From Wikia, "An old, but lovingly cared for book, bound in leather of questionable origins. The pages smell of herbs and wood smoke. Intricate stitching on the cover marks out a leafless tree, strangely ominous in its stark appearance."_

NOTE II: _ And the next two chapters are some I've been wanting to write since I began this odyssey. Eeeee! So excited!_


	43. Chapter 43

Note: _So, if you were wanting a little extra for the story, I've got some drabbles on my Tumblr and I'm probably going to post them on AO3, too. The tumblr is erithe-aneth-ara. tumblr. com and there are sketches there, one seriously stupidly sad prompt, and an alternate ending for Chapter Ten. Currently. I have plans for more there, including prompts, etc._

Note II: _In order to maintain this story at its current rating for readers who need it to stay that way, I will note _if _any future story segments are going to veer into the M rated area and post them in another fic here on ffnet, on Ao3 (where I'm erithe), and on Tumblr. Best of both worlds! If you find getting to those fics is in anyway unclear, let me know via PM and I'll direct you._

* * *

_._

_._

_What you burnt, broke, and tore is still in my hands.  
I am the keeper of fragile things and I have kept of  
you what is indissoluble._ ~ Anaïs Nin

.

* * *

It was a rough and bloody day, and cost the Orlesian dearly. Any sense of exhaustion Melori might have felt disappeared once they entered the fray, ferrying the Inquisitor and her company through the twisting wilds toward the Temple of Mythal. She caught sight of Cullen along the way, urging his forces forward, his bare blade pointing the way, face half-hidden within the maw of his lion helm. He cut an inspiring figure, though she had little time to admire it.

The path to the temple was an exercise in running pell mell through hostile terrain only to stop dead and fight both the environment and the Venatori. The road turned from broken cobbles to dirt and trampled plant life, slick with blood and redolent with the stench of death. Explosions could be heard ahead of them, the scent of smoke drifting through the trees. Orlesian soldiers and Inquisition forces surged around them as the company passed, calling out support to the Inquisitor.

They hit a wave of red Templars and Venatori as they moved down to the river. Cassandra led the charge forward, blade singing as she plowed into the crowd, arrows and crossbow bolts slamming through enemy armor as Varric and Sera let loose volley after volley. One of the Venatori shouted and more broke through the underbrush to the side, flanking the company with several red Templar among them. Melori saw Bull stagger as a red horror threw it's malignant, oversized fist into the earth at his feet. Another thundered toward Morrigan and the Inquisitor with a roar - only to find Cassandra's shield in its gut.

With no room to cast without taking out friends as well as foes, Melori switched her staff to her left hand and drew the storm blade Dagna had crafted for her. She felt her hair rise as the lightning runes along the crosspiece lit and sparked excitedly. Practice made it easy to pull her power inward, to center herself, and her wards flared, snapping and cracking as she threw herself after Dorian and Illiam into the a mass of Venatori. Lightning flared and her blade caught one of them across the chest, energy striking the ground from various points around her, tossing enemies to either side. Those who rose from her attack fell beneath Dorian and Illiam's soon after.

Blackwall waded past her to finish off the fallen, his face grim as he went about his grisly work. The Inquisitor shouted in the distance and they jogged after her. Melori was grateful that, for once, no one seemed particularly injured, though the heat was doing its best to sap their strength. Wiping perspiration from her forehead with the back of a hand, she jogged to catch up with the group, jerking a little at every new noise, and nearly brained Illiam with her staff when an explosion erupted only a few yards away.

"Watch it, elf!" Illiam said, almost grabbing her staff before he thought better of it. "I don't remember you lighting up like a thunderhead the last time I saw you in a fight."

"Sorry about that. Dagna said I might start glowing when I used the new sword," Melori answered, sliding the blade back into its sheath with a relieved sigh. "It's like holding onto a lightning rod."

"Glowing is one word for it," he answered, turning as a cry went up ahead of them.

They broke into a run after Dorian and the others, sliding down the embankment and into water up past their knees. The stream fueled by a high waterfall to their right. To the left, archers on the broken segments of what had once been a bridge or building fired on them, arrows smacking into the water on all sides. Melori gripped her staff in both hands, warding those around her from projectiles as their own archers fired back, taking the enemies down one by one.

Something cracked behind the group and Melori turned to see Dorian dropping to one knee, all his weight on his staff. Behind him, several abominations were descending the hill, backed by possessed grey wardens - the remnants of those Corypheus had taken. Illiam shouted and leapt at the oncoming abomination, twin daggers glaring in the sunlight, and Melori followed him, drawing her sword once more.

Dorian was dragging himself back to his feet as she ran past, blood down one side of his armor, magic swelling as he drew the recently dead spirits to his command and sent them forward. Blue light twined along the ground as the specters rose and swept toward the enemy, and Melori followed them, flickering out of view as she fade-stepped up to one of the mages and cut her down, blocking another abomination on her shields. Time blurred as she focused on first one enemy then another.

When the last fell, she was panting for breath and turning in a slow circle, blood dripping from her sword and her armor - some of it hers, but most of it not. Dorian stood at the base of the rise, still in the water, and gestured tiredly at them. "Hurry! We're being left behind!"

"Are you all right?" she asked, sliding down to where he was standing. The blood on his armor seemed like a lot, but he shook his head.

"I'll live, much to the benefit of Thedas," he said through gritted teeth.

"Idiot," Illiam muttered as they made their way forward, not quite able to hide the worry in his eyes as he took Dorian's arm across his shoulder and helped the mage along. "Hang on. The healers are ahead of us."

* * *

The forest descended past another waterfall and they slid downward to where the landscape evened out once more. A nest of red templars greeted them, half decimated already by the Inquisitor, but there were plenty left over with life yet clinging. It was a confusing mess of blood and metal, the stink of red lyrium on the air, and the bone-shaking reverberations every time a horror slammed a fist into the ground.

Her world narrowed to a point of chaos, controlled only in the sense that she was in the middle of it, guiding her own hands and reactions. She slipped between attacks and fade-stepped out of the reach of blades, reappearing on someone's flank and casting a cascade of lightning to bring them down. A blow hit her in the side and she winced, jarred back, but then Cassandra was in front of her and Melori could turn and catch a falling blade on her shields, pushing violently back with her magic.

A templar blade hit her head and she staggered backward, feeling blood on her brow and the world snapped suddenly into focus. She dodged a falling templar, fell, and found herself slipping down an embankment on her hip. Trees rushed past and she came to an abrupt stop at the bottom of a shallow ravine, the sounds of the fighting dimming. Blinking blood and sweat out of her eyes, she tried to scramble back up the way she had come, but found it too steep.

Her head swam and she paused to wipe the blood out of her eyes before jogging along the ravine floor, trying to find a way up the side. She heard someone calling her name – it sounded like Varric - at the top of the ravine and she tried to yell back, but it did no good. The brush was too thick where she'd slid down and she'd fallen too far.

The forest here was dense and smelled of rotting plant matter. She jogged a long way with her staff in hand, hoping to find a path out of the ravine sooner rather than later. The sounds of the fighting faded the further she traveled, but nowhere along the ravine did she see a way to climb up the sides. Time dragged on and she began to panic, not knowing what to do next. Ahead, on the wrong side, she saw the ravine smooth downward into what appeared to be a meadow, bright light streaming through the leaves from the space beyond.

"Dammit," she muttered - the further away from the fighting she walked, the higher the chances that she would become lost in the wilds. And, for someone with Melori's directional sense – or lack thereof – that was a very real and dire threat. Still, she had no other options that she could see. Sighing, she crossed the ravine into the meadow, blinking in the light filled space, and gasping when she saw a worn, plant covered altar on one side of the meadow. A statue of Fen'Harel reclined behind the altar itself, eyes hollow where there had once been precious stones. She stepped onto the grass, approaching the stone slab. What was this doing _here_ next to Mythal's own temple? **

Melori reached for her journal, almost missing the movement to her side. Her hand closed on the hilt of her sword instead and she moved, fade-shifting away from the elf with the bow - only to find more of them where she reappeared, their weapons at her throat. Melori froze, lifting her free hand and wincing as one of them grabbed her staff from her hand. Their armor was strange to her eyes, like something out of an illustration, and they all had skin of a strange gold hue along with Mythal's _vallaslin _on their faces. Melori swallowed, tried to think, but they were _not_ what she had expected - these elves were not Dalish. She wasn't certain _what_ they were.

"_Na'mi lin'numin_," the first elf, who seemed to also be the leader, commented.

"With my enemy's blood," she answered him in elvish before looking around at the others and giving a bow, brief and shallow to avoid the blades so near her person. "_Andaran Atish'an, Lethallin_,"

"You are not one of our blood," their leader replied, his eyes narrowed.

"No," Melori agreed, wondering what Josephine would have done in this situation. "I was born of the Dalish elves in the Free Marches and raised among the _shemlen_. But I am a librarian, a scholar-"

"And a _dirth'ena enansal_," one of the nearer elves said, the accent odd but still intelligible.

"I'm ... trying to be," Melori nodded, recognizing the ancient term for an arcane warrior. "Truly, I mean you no harm."

"Why have you come here, if not to desecrate our sacred places?" The leader asked, pacing, his strange, pale eyes seeming to see through her.

"We're not here to do that," she answered, back straightening. "A blight-tainted Tevinter mage opened a rift in the sky over the mountains north of here. When we closed the rift, he came to the Arbor Wilds looking for the eluvian in the Temple. We seek to stop him. You've seen the knights with the red crystals sticking out all over them? Those are his. _He_ certainly intends to desecrate these grounds."

At a nod from their leader, the bows and weapons around her lowered. "Those within the Temple will not look kindly on the intrusion, no matter your people's cause."

"We'll take that chance if it comes to it," Melori nodded, frowning. "We haven't got a choice at this point. But ... you are letting me go?"

"You bear the mark of Mythal," the elf said looking toward Melori's _vallaslin, _so similar to the branching tattoos he and the others bore upon their foreheads. His expression was unreadable. "No matter how pale a copy, you also bear the touch of her power - without it, you would now be dead."

"Oh," she sucked in a ragged breath, startled and relieved. It was possible that the blow to her head had affected her and she was seeing things – thought it felt real enough. She asked, a little shame-faced, "How... how do I get back?"

"The others will show you," he said, turning away.

"_Dareth shiral_," Melori said, taking her staff back from one of the archers. But he did not answer and she followed the silent elves through the wood to a place where she could climb up the roots of a tree to the top of the ravine. When she turned to thank them, they were gone, faded into the landscapes as though they were spirits.

* * *

Melori pulled herself up and over the last of the twisting roots, crawling ungracefully onto the flat ground, her staff sticking up awkwardly from where she'd slung it over her back. There were bushes at the top and she pushed her way through them, still on her hands and knees, slipping down a small incline she hadn't seen and rolling into a heavily armored back person with a yelp of pain.

"Ribbons?" Krem said, looking down at her from where he was crouched behind a broken pillar. The Charger was staring at her and looking relieved. "Didn't expect to see you here."

"Krem!" she exclaimed, gasping for breath.

"We thought you were dead. Varric said he saw you fall over a cliff." He said, giving her a hand up.

"Not quite," she answered, dusting herself off and looking around. Her head was pounding, but she ignored it. "Where am I?"

"Near the Temple gate," he answered, nodding. "Commander Cullen is ahead. They're fighting to clear the way for the Inquisitor right now."

"And you're ...?"

"Waiting to scare the Venatori shitless," he grinned. "We're guarding the only path that leads to the Temple. Anyone tries to come this route, they'll meet the Chargers at our best."

"Want some help?" she asked, lifting her staff.

"Nice as that would be, you should probably tell the Commander you're not dead. He didn't take the news well," Krem answered, giving her a look. "If you go now, you can probably make it without ruining our surprise for the Venatori."

* * *

They were fighting at the doors to the Temple itself, Cullen in the midst of them, lion helm clearly visible from a distance. Melori saw Dorian nearby and Vivienne, but nothing of the others, though she had little time to look. The fighting was fierce and she was forced to defend herself, using her staff as a bludgeon even as she began to fling lightning into the crowd. A roar to her left sent her running as a maul broke through an ancient stone column beside her, sending shards of stone in all directions.

Her wards caught most of it, and she ran again, dodging enemies until she saw a familiar set of horns above the chaos. The red templar monster was still on her heels, and she fled, letting out a cry as she dodged a massive fist. She saw Bull turn, heard him laugh, and then she was past him and in the midst of friends as the Qunari's giant sword struck the templar across the face.

"You're alive!" The Inquisitor yelled, and she felt herself dragged forward by the arm. She could feel the magic of the Inquisitor's mark against her skin, even through her armor. "This way!"

They followed Cassandra up the steps to the temple doors, through a desperate melee. The Venatori threw themselves forward onto the Inquisition blades and Melori found herself casting wardings as fast as she could manage it, tossing barriers and shields onto the warriors and the Inquisitor. Storm energy lifted her hair and snapped as she opened her arms and _pushed_ it into the fray. Stray bolts of lightning hit the ground the more magic she summoned. And then they were through and she was at the top of the stairs, Cullen ahead of them.

"Melori!"

For the briefest moment their eyes met and she felt everything slow, her heart thudding in her chest with relief, and then she was past him, her blade winning free of the sheath as one of the Venatori warriors charged toward Cullen's back. Her blade caught the falling broadsword, and she gasped with effort, power flowing down the metal between the blades. The man began to jerk and shake, unable to let go of his own sword, and she shifted, bringing her staff down across his head.

Cullen staggered behind her, falling to one knee beneath a heavy blow, shield lifting to protect himself. Melori saw him out of the corner of her eye and spun, blade lifting, but before she could move a bone-chilling sound filled the air.

The dragon's scream rose over their heads as the creature swept toward them over the tree tops. The Inquisitor, Varric, Solas, and Cassandra were already at the Temple doors, pushing them open and sliding through. The Venatori around them scrambled away as the dragon hit the ground at the bottom of the steps, leaving Cullen and Melori alone at the top as the Inquisitor and her party disappeared behind the doors. The Commander was still dazed from the blow he'd taken, trying to rise to his feet. Melori swallowed and put herself between the creature and Cullen, not sure what, exactly, she could do against a dragon.

Everything seemed to slow down, the sound of her heartbeat loud in her ears. This was the monster who had been with Corypheus at Haven staring down at them now with frightening intelligence in its eyes. It drew back its head, filling bellows-like lungs with fire, and it was all she could do not to back up a step. They had no time to run, no way to escape. Cullen was too heavy for her to drag to safety, and she was not going to leave him behind. She was not going to go through that pain ... not again.

Knowing she ought to be shaking in her boots, but somehow icily calm, Melori held her staff in front of her, pouring what energy she had left into a shield that glowed and wavered in the air before her and she braced herself for the impact as fire erupted from the dragon's jaws. It would have to be enough.

* * *

.

NOTE III: _Na'mi lin'numin = Your blade weeps blood. ((my own phrase, obviously)). For more elven language, google Dalish lexicon or visit the DA Wikia article on elven language._

NOTE IV: The "leader elf" is not Abelas. Just in case you were wondering. Abelas is inside the Temple right now.

** it doesn't exist in game. It's there for my own purposes. :D


	44. Chapter 44

NOTE:_ Some incidents have been edited to make sense for the story. . _

* * *

_._

_… I have been where you are before  
And I have felt the pain of losing who you are  
And I have died so many times, but I am still alive_

_… I wish that you could see your scars turn into beauty  
I believe that today it's okay to be not okay.  
Hold on, hold on_

~ Christina Perri, _I Believe_

.

* * *

Dragon fire hit her shield in a turbulent, red hot torrent that knocked her back several steps, her boots skidding across the stone. Melori gritted her teeth and pushed more power into the ward, feeling her energy ebb and drain, her hands beginning to shake. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck beneath her braid as the temperature on her side of the shield rose. Behind her, she heard Cullen's voice, but could not turn away from the turbulent, noxious flames, twisting and malevolent with red lyrium.

Her stomach sickened at the stench of it and her chin lowered, seconds seeming like hours as her power dwindled. She prayed to Mythal that what was left of her energy would last. When the first breath ended and the fire eased, the dragon drew another, and Melori's knees buckled. Without her wards, they were dead as soon as the next breath released, but she had nothing left to give, her head swimming with exhaustion.

Cullen caught her as she collapsed and pulled her tight to his chest, his shield arm lifting even as the dragon belched fire once more. He was still kneeling, making himself as small as possible behind the tower shield, turning to keep them away from the toxic flames. Somewhere along the line, he'd lost his helm, and she could see the sweat beading on his forehead, mixing with the blood of a head wound. The metal of his shield was turning bright with heat and Melori pushed her hand forward beneath his arm, palm flat to the interior metal, and summoned the last remaining dregs of energy. Even through her gauntlets she felt her fingers burn, hissing through her teeth until his shield began to crackle with ice and stream.

"Hold on," she heard him breathe, and Melori felt a weird urge to giggle hysterically rising through her chest. They were safe. _He_ was safe. There would be no good bye, not yet. No terror of silence and stillness and … she caught her breath and held so tightly to his cuirass that the fingers of her free hand hurt. She could not face the pain of loss again, not while the older wounds were still so raw and new.

The second gout of fire ended and the dragon moved, distracted by Iron Bull and the other Inquisition forces as they ran toward it, arrows and magic pinging off its hide. The thing exhaled fire onto the company and they lifted their shields in response, holding fast until it came to an end, at which point they surged forward again in a rush. The thing roared and stumbled, lifting onto its back legs as it spread its wings, leaping into the air with such force that it knocked almost everyone near it over, including Iron Bull.

"Are you all right?" Cullen asked her, his voice carrying behind the shelter of his shield, warm eyes dark with worry as they met hers. "I thought … Varric said you fell."

"I'm not …" she began, but his arm moved around her waist and his lips found hers. It was brief, as kisses go, but it seemed to last a very long time, breaking off only when their names were called. Whatever had been tentative between them had disappeared, and Melori found the idea of leaving the shelter of his shield difficult. She didn't want to go, and, for the briefest moment, his fingers tightened as though to keep her there. But duty called and they parted, Melori staggering a little to one side as she rose and she found her arm held in the tight, steady grasp of Madame de Fer.

"My dear, that was extraordinarily foolish," the lady said sharply, pressing a lyrium vial into Melori's hand. "Take it. The attack will renew soon enough."

* * *

The Venatori forces began to fragment an hour or two into the second run of the battle. Their lines broke not long after and soon the entire effort became a complete rout. By the end of the day, Corypheus' army in the Arbor Wilds had become so unraveled that the Inquisition and their allies spent the rest of the day clearing out pockets of resistance and shoring up their own defenses - which seemed unlikely to be tested.

Cullen ordered a camp set up near the gates to the Temple once they'd established control of the forest, and Josephine arrived a while later. The discussion turned toward the Inquisitor and the temple then, worry spiking tempers as the advisors discussed their options.

"Obviously, something's happened within," the Antivan ambassador insisted, hiding her panic over the Inquisitor's safety as well as she could. "What if they're injured? Someone should at least take a look!"

"We can send scouts," Cullen agreed, pacing around the tent. For once he was out of his armor, a healer having had to wrap his burnt arm in bandages until Madame de Fer could take a better look at it. "Enara said she spoke to some of the elven inhabitants during the battle. Perhaps we could utilize that ..."

"Are you suggesting we send her in _alone_?" Josephine asked, brows lifting, and the Commander flushed.

"No! I simply meant that she would have the best chance of speaking to them successfully," He answered, deliberately not looking to where Melori sat on the other side of the tent, patiently waiting while the healer wrapped her hand from where she'd burnt it against his shield. "We should not send anyone in alone. Maker's breath."

They went back and forth for a while longer, until Melori ventured to speak, feeling completely out of place as their eyes turned toward her. "Dorian and I could take Blackwall and Illiam with us when we go. Someone has to, right? And the _elvhen_ seemed less inclined to ... um .. murder me than they might with someone else. Not to mention ... it's the Temple of Mythal. In my entire life, I never dreamed that I would see such a place, and here it is. If I may, I would certainly welcome the opportunity to set foot inside it."

"Mel ... Enara," Cullen began, but Josephine interrupted him.

"She's right, Cullen. And, frankly, we need to know about the Inquisitor as soon as possible."

He almost said something completely unforgiveable then, Melori saw, but he pulled himself together and took a deep breath. "Fine. But let's have Madame de Fer heal them first."

* * *

The four of them left the tents an hour later, bandaged and full of healing tonics, but more or less intact once more. Melori felt almost as though she'd just traveled from the Western Approach to the Hissing Wastes via Tempus Staff all over again, but the another lyrium potion had helped. Before she'd left the tent, Cullen stopped her, his hands gripped tightly behind his back as he said, "Come back."

"I will," Melori promised. "If we're don't return in two hours, it might be a good idea to send people inside to fetch us. Though, I believe we will return."

He nodded, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "If I can wait that long."

The gates to the Temple were opened as the four approached. They could see a causeway stretching out before them across the water to the main building beyond. There were bodies at this end of the causeway, already beginning to stink in the heat. Melori's nose wrinkled and they passed them hurriedly, noting that there were grey warden uniforms on some of them - as well as one that looked strangely empty, as though the body had dissolved while still wearing it.

A figure was standing a little distance away, halfway across the approach to the temple. He was dressed as the elvhen she'd met earlier had been, though he carried no weapons and it was difficult to make out his features beneath the deep hood he wore. There was something about his stance that Melori recognized, an air of authority she'd seen in others. Unconsciously, her posture straightened, and she stood taller, her staff settled onto the ground beside her.

"_Andaran Atish'an_," she said quietly, knowing the four of them looked a wreck in their bloodied armor. "I am Melori Enara, a scholar for the Inquisition. We are seeking our leader, the Inquisitor - a _shemlen _woman traveling with two mages, a dwarf, and a _shemlan_ warrior."

"They are not here," the _elvhen_ said. "The female mage opened the eluvian and they escaped through it before the monster you faced destroyed it. We are all who remain, those of us not killed in the attack."

"Gone?" Melori said, her mind going blank. "But-"

"The creature sought the _Vir'Abelasan_," the elf said, watching her with a cool gaze. "The female mage drank of the well in order to deny him what he sought, and the eluvian was destroyed as your friends escaped."

"_Vir'Abelasan_ …" Melori shook her head, "Well of Sorrows? I … don't understand."

"Your leader was alive when last I saw her," the elf said, his voice sharp. "Unlike many of my own people. If you come back on the morrow, I will answer your questions. Today we must see to the dead."

"I understand," Melori answered, glancing over to Dorian, who shrugged lightly. "Thank you."

The elf turned and made his way toward the temple doors and Melori turned to look at the others. "You heard him," she said quietly. "I ... think it would be best not to antagonize them."

"What if they're holding the Inquisitor inside?" Blackwall asked, brows furrowed, his hand on the hilt of his blade.

"I don't believe she is," Melori answered. "And, to be fair, they would have killed her outright if they'd intended to harm her at all. If Morrigan did use the eluvian, the Inquisitor may be back in Skyhold now, which means a raven is going to arrive at any moment to tell us that she's all right."

"So, we return on the morrow," Dorian nodded. "I would agree that patience may be our better virtue, given the circumstances."

"Not one you commonly share," Illiam remarked, lips twitching.

"Do shut up, Seloris," Dorian drawled. "I will have you know that I have made an art of patience."

* * *

The raven arrived as the sun was setting, finding its way to one of the scouts on the periphery who brought it to Melori's attention. She was sitting in one of the open front tents at the center of the camp, going over maps and reports from their agents in the forest, forwarding anything important to the Josephine and Cullen. She'd cleaned up as best she could and was wearing one of Josephine's shirts over a pair of breeches. As it was addressed to Josephine, Melori carried it over herself, hoping against hope that it contained the news they wanted to hear.

Josephine was sitting at the war table, her forehead leaning against her palm, fingers tracing a line across the table. A half-empty bottle of Orlesian port was resting on the table next to her elbow and she was muttering under her breath, whispering imprecations against the Inquisitor should she turn up dead. Cullen lifted his head as Melori entered, pushing off the table and watching her with shadowed eyes. She lifted the message to show him and some of the tension in his face eased. One way or another, they would know soon.

"Lady Montilyet?" Melori said quietly, stretching across the table to set the missive by Josephine's hand. "I think this is it."

Josephine lifted her head, her hand reaching out to take the small scroll. It shook a little as she broke the seal and unrolled the thin parchment, her eyes scanning quickly down the page. When she had finished it, she handed the paper to Cullen, laid her head down on her arms, and burst into tears.

"Lady Montilyet!" Melori rushed around the table, hands flailing a little as she tried to decide what to do. "I ... what did it say?" She asked Cullen, desperately. "Was it bad?"

"They're alive," He answered, a large smile spreading across his face as he read over it again. "They're in Skyhold and everyone is fine."

Josephine was hiccupping and wiping at her eyes, her dusky cheeks stained pink with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry. It's just ... I was sure she had ... that they had all died."

"To be fair, I feel a little like weeping myself," Melori admitted, smiling broadly. "The stress of waiting is horrible."

"So, we take a look at the temple tomorrow and make our way back to Skyhold as soon as we can get things organized here," Cullen stated. "Josephine, we can put you and Morrigan's son on the road tomorrow with a guard. The rest of us will follow as soon as I've given the captains their orders regarding withdrawing Inquisition forces."

"I would like that," Josephine agreed. "The Empress has already removed herself to a nearby estate and there are things to attend to at Skyhold, certainly," she sighed deeply, pushing herself to her feet. "I think I will bid you good night now. It has been a long day for everyone."

"That it has," Cullen answered, his eyes turning toward Melori as the Ambassador left the tent. He cleared his throat and pushed at his shirt sleeves, unused to going about with his armor. "I don't suppose you'd ... um ..."

"Whatever it is, I'll probably say yes," Melori answered, watching as his cheeks lit with a blush.

HIs chuckle took her off guard, warm and amused. "You don't know what I was going to ask," He said, walking over to where she stood beside the war table. "I could be asking you to come back to my tent."

"Oh ... you weren't going to do that? Where will I sleep?" She laughed, tilting her head up to look at him. Biting her lip at the expression in his eyes and the way the lantern light lit his hair to gold as his lip curved up to one side - the side with the scar, of course. Her stomach flipped and she felt her own cheeks warming.

"Well," he murmured, reaching up to touch a stray curl before his hand slid along the back of her neck and his head bent, lips so close to hers she made a soft sound, her hands coming up to tangle in his shirt. "I thought you might be interested in coming back to my tent?"

"I was planning on it," she answered, laughing, though her heart was thumping in her chest as she tried to pull him closer.

"Good," he smiled, lips ghosting over hers before he pulled away, catching her hands in his. "This way."

* * *

It was very dark in the forest, the only lights the campfires and the torches here and there. Cullen's tent was situated somewhere to the back of the others, not on the periphery of the camp, but in a quiet space. Melori followed him inside, blinking when she saw her bags had been brought along with his equipment. She would have commented, but she had only that brief moment to look around before he had turned and pulled her close, his mouth on hers, his hands sliding up her back.

This time his mouth was urgent, demanding, and his hands roved as he kissed her, sliding up beneath the hem of the borrowed shirt and tracing hot fingers across bare skin. Melori made an incoherent sound, and he chuckled, nuzzling at her neck and over her ears, causing her to writhe, hands twisting into his shirt. His name escaped her on a breath and she _felt_ him chuckle as he lifted and carried her to his cot, their fingers tangling as they tugged at one another's clothing, and then his lips were tracing fire down the center of her chest, and his hands were caressing her sides, her hips ... all with the air of a man who had wanted this for so long he couldn't bear to leave anywhere unexplored.

They found each other's scars, fingers gentling, tracing his old wounds and her newer ones, and their voices drifted with each new discovery until, finally, he had her writhing and gasping his name like a prayer. Everything coalesced into heat and pleasure and _him_, and when she finally held him fully, she heard her name on his lips, hissed between clenched teeth as he fell against her, heavy and perfect. She could see his heartbeat fluttering at the base of his throat and his fingers were threading through her hair, which had somehow come free of her braids.

He pressed his forehead to hers, trying to catch his breath. "I thought you were dead today. Twice over."

"I almost was the second time," she admitted. "But ... I couldn't bear it if you'd ... and if you hadn't brought up your shield when you did ... " her throat closed on the words and she swallowed, remembering the fear of that moment, of the certainty that she would _not _survive another such loss. She looked up at him, shaking her head. "If you hadn't done that ..."

"We would both be dead." He reached up to trace the line of her cheek, his gaze both steady and hopeful. "Are you all right?"

"This is the _best_ I've been ... in a long time," she replied, kissing his collar bone. "You?"

"You're here and alive, and that's enough," he answered, then caught himself. "If that's ... do you mind? I keep forgetting what I'm asking of you. There are so many reasons I can think of for you to ..."

"I can't think of a single reason why I should want to be anywhere else but here" Melori answered, reaching up to touch his cheek . "You're alive... Mythal help me, I don't think I could have survived if you were not. I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

.

NOTE: _So ... yeah. Sorry about the cliffhanger, but I wanted the scene with the dragon and the shielding and all that b/c ... it's been in my head for a bit. So. um ...*Grin* :D_

NOTE II: _So ... I trimmed a little off the above scene, so if you want the full, unexpurgated version, visit AO3 and erithe (reithe) to find the full version. It's not particularly longer or terribly explicit, mind. But I know I have a few readers who need this to stay at the current rating and I want them to be able to safely read along :) If you think it's still too much for the current rating, please let me know in PM. Thank you!_


	45. Chapter 45

NOTE: _And this is where I take the lore I know, as I know it, and make up my own little twists and turns. : )_

* * *

.

"_We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in  
one dimension, and not in another; unevenly ... The past, present,  
and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the  
present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations."_  
~ Anaïs Nin

.

* * *

Birds flew out from the greenery, their wings fluttering against the sky as Melori walked through the doors into the Temple of Mythal. Above her head rose high stone walls, ancient arches reaching across the broad spaces, though the roof was long gone. The elf who had greeted them on the causeway the day before followed her at a small distance, his lips tight beneath his hood. She had arrived that morning with a pack over her shoulder and her staff in one hand, completely alone this time. They had stared at one another for almost a full minute before he sighed and opened the doors behind him.

"I never got your name yesterday," Melori said, gripping her staff tightly in nervous anticipation as she followed him inside the temple.

"I am called Abelas," he said, not turning to look at her. "If you become lost, we will not search for you."

"I understand," she answered, tearing her eyes away from the tantalizing glimpse of the interior. "I will do my best to respect what is here."

He walked away then, leaving her in the entry hall as she watched him go, her heart pounding with a strange excitement. Cullen had given her a day to explore the temple before they must leave the Arbor Wilds to return to Skyhold, and, though she had argued that he could safely leave her behind to do more research, he had refused - understandably so, considering they had no idea what would happen next and he was needed in Skyhold. Not wanting to wait for Dorian or the others, she had come alone with her equipment and her journal, paper and tinted wax for rubbings, rope for climbing, and anything else she could carry in one bag.

This was a place from legend, a place she had never _dreamed _she would see. The temple of the goddess she had chosen as a child. Melori had prayed to Mythal for aid throughout her life, never knowing that she would one day set foot in a place where, scholars said, Mythal had once _physically_ appeared. Morrigan might believe the gods to be rumor, but Melori had never been convinced. Not entirely. She wondered as she crossed the threshold into the vestibule of the temple what Solas had thought of this place and wished that he was with her now.

Within the vestibule she found the platform with its magical tiles, the statues of the goddess arrayed around it, and she paused on the stairs to remove her boots. A white, fluffy shape darted up beside her as she did so, twining between her legs and nearly knocking her over.

"_You are here!"_ Revas purred, his tail swishing in feline delight.

"Oh, you haven't abandoned me for Kieran's affections, after all?" She smiled, standing on the cool stone in her bare feet.

"_Of course not,_" the cat answered, sitting down and curling his tail across his front paws. "_I am not that fickle._"

"Mm hmm," Melori answered, standing at the edge of the platform. She'd read something of this in an ancient book from her study: The Penitent's path, the Seeker's Petition ... it had many names. All she desired was knowledge, but it seemed unwise not to make the effort - not to mention, when would she get this chance again? She placed one bare foot onto the tiles and shivered as magic lit beneath the soles of her feet, her breath catching. Step by step she walked the pattern until they had all lit and turned gold, the magic releasing in a surge of warmth and light.

Stepping down, she pulled her boots back on and made her way past the statues and to the stairs, pausing at the top to turn and sketch into her journal what she could see: the layout of the space, the statues, the ... silence. IT was eerily quiet, the only sound coming from the birds and the rustling of the wind in the trees. It was impossible to tell that others were in the temple, that she was not completely alone.

There were mosaics on the walls and she thought she could make out faces in the patterns as she paused to study them. Most were rough with age and weather, their tiles having fallen off entirely. She sketched them as best she could, regardless. Around the corner Melori found the statue of Fen'Harel, and stared at it for a long moment, her brow furrowed. It was not entirely unexpected, given the age of the temple, but it surprised her all the same. She'd become accustomed to seeing Fen'harel as the 'Betrayer' not a revered fellow god.

The cat jumped up onto the statue, rubbing the top of his head beneath the wolf's jaw. Melori stared at him and rolled her eyes, turning to walk to the next set of doors. "You're impossible."

"_I am exactly what you need right now_," he announced, trotting along behind her.

"Oh, I can think of other things I'd prefer," she answered, lips curving as she remembered the previous night.

"_Desire is not my particular territory," _Revas replied with the kind of smirk only a cat can pull off.

* * *

There was a crater in the center of the Hall of Shrines. Melori stared down into the darkened space below, at the dead bodies that had not yet been removed, and her stomach clenched. She would go down there, of course, but it was painful to see it and know that, not a few days before, this same space had been unblemished by anything more than time and age. Turning away from it, she walked around the room, pausing at the mosaics and reading the inscriptions near them.

"This ... is different," She muttered, looking back up at the mosaic of Falon'din near the door that led further into the temple. It stood beside a gilt statue of Mythal, and she studied it a while, writing the inscription into her journal before moving to the opposite side to where a mosaic of Andruil stood. The inscription here was long and the further Melori read, the more she frowned. "Andruil hunted ... elves?"

"_Among other things," _Revas was licking his paw and washing his face while she worked. When Melori turned to stare at him, waiting for further explanation, he paused. "_If I had intended to tell you everything, I would have done so before we traveled all this way into the middle of the jungle._"

"You ...," Melori shook her head and stood, snapping her journal shut. "What if it's important?"

"_Then you'll figure it out when you need it," _He answered.

In the side rooms she found more shrines and more paths. Walking each one after carefully studying the pattern, Melori imagined herself an ancient elf, here to petition the goddess for some boon or to ask a question. She wondered if Mythal would appear as a dragon or if she walked among her worshippers as a winged creature, her regal head tilted as they knelt before her. And she wondered, as well, if the patterns had anything to do with the paths of the individual gods. Was the one dedicated to Sylaise the _Vir'Atish'an_, perhaps? Had the elves who walked these paths recited the rites as they walked?

Each of the puzzles had a particular statue, though the mosaic by the owls depicted June, rather than Andruil. It was a simple puzzle, practical and quick, while the puzzle related to Fen'Harel was trickier, requiring the petitioner to leap onto a center section in order to complete it. That one took Melori longer to solve, though she enjoyed the Dread Wolf's challenge. Still, when she re-entered the hall of shrines and saw the crater again, her heart fell and she frowned, feeling a heavy regret as she looked around the temple before moving further into it, through the double doors and into the space beyond.

She heard the sound of soft footsteps, a murmur of voices, but this, which she imagined must be a petitioning chamber, was empty. Revas brushed around her ankles, and she shivered, feeling the weight of time and her own expectations on her shoulders. She passed through a doorway on the left and along a series of corridors, noting the pristine mosaics, the statuary, the significance of the dread wolf having not only his own shrine, but statuary all over the temple. Melori wrote each thing down and wondered why her heart felt so heavy in a place as lovely and as well-preserved as this.

When she came to the last set of doors and walked down and around into the heart of the natural canyon at the back of the temple, she felt the power of the Well of Sorrows still echoing in the space. The lack of it was like a wound in the fabric of the Fade, and she covered her mouth with her hand. Steps of levitated stone took her up to the empty basin and when she had come to the lip of the pool and saw the shattered eluvian, the enormity of the place overwhelmed her and she sank to her knees, tears pouring down her face.

"There was so much here," she said to Revas, who pressed himself to her side, her fingers tangling in his soft fur. "Everything we were is lost and ... this? This was safe until ...," her breath caught and she covered her mouth with her hand. "I thought ... I hoped I would find something here that would _help_ somehow. That would explain why things are as they are now. Why all of this came to an end. Why my magic is forbidden and my people gave me to the _shemlen_. Why something as monstrous as Corypheus can use an elven artifact to rip a hole in the Fade."

"_There are answers here," _Revas said softly, purring and rubbing her fingers with his chin. "_But you may have to do something dangerous to find them_."

* * *

'Something dangerous' required a lyrium potion, a sleeping draught, and a step into the Fade. Melori argued at first, worried that someone would find her in the middle of the process and wake her, but Revas pointed out that the regular inhabitants were ignoring her, and that Dorian wasn't even awake yet, most likely.

"_No one will find you until you've awakened again_," he assured her. _"This is where the answers are. I won't let anything happen to you."_

"Fine," she exhaled, relaxing as she gave in at last, casting her wards and settling onto the stone next to the Well, her legs crossed and her hands on her knees. She drank the lyrium and then the sleeping draught, tucking the empty bottles into her bag before setting it aside, and then Melori closed her eyes and let the world slip away.

Fog and roiling mist, dark and light and dangerous, filled with voices only half-understood. Melori stood in the center of the temple, barely able to see farther than a few feet in front of her. Voices cried out and there was a sound of wings overhead. Someone was speaking in elven and she stepped toward them, recognizing the timbre of the voice if not the person who spoke as the shifting mists revealed him. Tall, with darkly tanned skin and black hair that was shaved on one side, he wore a loose robe with one arm free, a sash around his waist serving as a belt. He was running, a staff in one hand, an orb in the other, and she heard his voice drifting as he passed her.

Melori followed after him through the mists, lost him in the maze-like halls. Archways that had been opened before were shut to her now, and she found herself twisting in a circle, trying to decide where to go next. She heard the Inquisitor asking about Fen'harel and Morrigan explaining that having the Dread Wolf in such a place was tantamount to sacrilege.

The hallway widened ahead and the mist seemed to clear a little. Melori ran forward, stopping in her tracks as a different elf swept across the hall, his long, straight hair hanging down his spine, pale face and dark eyes somber. Melori followed after him, keeping her distance from the depth of shadow that seemed to spread in his wake. She found her hands shaking and pressed them together as he faded into the mists. Solas' voice seemed to come from another room and Melori went toward it.

"It is said Falon'din's appetite for adulation was so great he began wars to amass more worshippers. The blood of those who wouldn't bow low filled lakes as wide as oceans. Mythal rallied the gods once the shadow of Falon'din's hunger stretched across her own people. It was almost too late. Falon'din only surrendered once his brethren bloodied him in his own temple."**

This was not like the time Solas taught her to dance, or anything like a normal Fade dream. It was as though she were crawling through overlapping layers of time, hearing and seeing things crowded together in the wrong sequence. She felt ill, and the whispering around her began to take form and shape, as though a hundred voices were seeking her attention. She turned a corner at a run, clasping her hands over her ears, and fell onto the ground in front of the well of Sorrows.

Her vision blurred as footsteps approached and a woman, tall and aged, her hair dressed like horns that swept back from her brow bent and lifted Melori to her feet. A familiar voice, rich with age, said, "I wondered when you would find your way here."

"Here or the Temple?" Melori asked, her heart hammering in her ears. "I shouldn't have done this."

"Perhaps not, but it's too late for regret now," The woman answered, her head tilting as she surveyed their surroundings. "Can you hear the whispers, child?"

"They won't stop, and I don't understand what they're saying," Melori answered, pressing a hand to her forehead. Images flickered around them and the voices seemed to grow louder. A song seemed to weave through the center of the cacophony, pulling at her hungrily, full of discord and chaos. Melori groaned in pain.

"Perhaps you are not listening carefully enough. Or maybe you simply need a little help. What is it you want most to know, child? You haven't long to find it."

Remembering her earlier conversation with Revas, Melori said, "What is it I _need_? If you know what that is ... I ...," her eyes widened. "The grimoire ... Revas wanted it. He said ... I might need it. And that elf, earlier ... he had an orb." She stumbled to her knees, and with the sudden blinding light of clarity she looked up at the woman in front of her. The sewn pattern on the cover of Flemeth's grimoire, the old woman at her hut in the Fade, the dragon blocking her path ... Melori almost couldn't form words, finally croaking out. "Who _are_ you?"

"You already know the answer to that, child."

* * *

Melori opened her eyes with a start, gasping and nearly falling over. Her face was wet with tears, her legs were asleep, and her head hurt as though she had gone on a bender the night before. Something shifted to the right of her and she turned, squinting in the sunlight to find Cullen standing not far away, his blade to one side, and his expression ... her throat tightened and she tried to wobble to her feet, cursing when her legs refused to obey, both of them completely numb.

"_Fenedhis! _I'm fine ... Cullen, it's me! I'm not possessed." She sat abruptly down again and pressed her palms to her eyes. "My legs, however, are completely asleep. I don't know how Solas does this so often."

She heard the ring of steel as he slid the blade home, and then he was helping her stand, pulling her into his arms, his face in her hair. "What were you thinking?" He asked, his voice hoarse and not a little angry.

"That I needed an answer I couldn't get from a book or a ruin," she admitted, leaning into him. Her body felt cold and her ears were ringing. "I think, I shouldn't have tried that particular trick here."

"Maker's breath," He kissed her forehead, then her lips as though he were assuring himself that she was real. "I-If you had awakened as anything but yourself ..."

"I'm sorry," She whispered. "I didn't mean to frighten you. I thought ... well, I thought no one would know."

"What if something had happened to you? I saw Dorian still in camp this morning and realized you'd come here alone." His voice was a mix of anger and relief. "And then that elf tells me you've gone dream walking!"

"That elf?"

"The one who led me to you," Cullen answered. "He was standing in the hall when I entered and when I asked where you were, he brought me here. "

"Oh. His name is Abelas. I'm surprised he did so much," She said. "When I arrived this morning, he told me they'd not look for me if I became lost."

"Did you at least find what you were looking for?" He asked, tracing the line of her ear with his thumb.

Melori shut her eyes for a moment, feeling a tremor run through her body, and nodded. "I found far more than I anticipated."

* * *

At the camp later that night, Melori sat in the firelight with Dorian and wrote rapidly in her journal, trying to remember everything she'd seen and heard so she would not forget. Cullen had walked through the rest of the temple with her, even going down into the underground areas while she made a rapid survey of the area. She'd found a few strange glyphs that she thought seemed untranslatable at first, but which became clearer as she considered them. There had been, of course, more statues of Fen'harel, as well. She would have to leave notes for any scholars who came after her, but, for now, she wished her headache would go away. Even the normal tonics weren't working.

She remembered the people she had seen in the dream, the tall elf with the dark, honey colored skin and black partly shaved black hair, and the other, paler elf with the strange dark eyes. Something about the first seemed familiar to her, but she could not put her finger on it. The memory of the orb he carried bothered her and she chewed on the end of her pencil, frowning at the page in front of her.

"Melori," Dorian said, nudging one of the logs back onto the fire with the toe of his boot, the sparks startling Revas where he was sleeping on Melori's half-empty satchel. "Are you going to tell me about this dream of yours or aren't you? A prince of patience I may be, but even I have my limits."

"It wasn't ... a straight forward thing," she explained, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. "I heard Morrigan and Solas speaking, and I saw glimpses of elves in the fog. Then I saw _her_."

"Who? I am beginning to feel an urge toward violence," he declared, shaking his head.

"Mythal," Melori said, looking at him directly. "But she wasn't an elf, not even an elf like Abelas and the others at the temple. I think the second elf I saw was Falon'din, a memory of him, perhaps. I don't know who the first was, though ... he felt familiar. But the woman at the end? She spoke to me directly, as she did in the Hissing Wastes. And she was ... Mythal I am certain of it."

Dorian whistled. "The soul of Mythal is still roaming around the Fade?"

"I don't know? Maybe I did something wrong? Maybe it was the lyrium giving me strange visions ... " Melori rubbed at the bridge of her nose, fingers sliding across the gold lines of her _vallaslin_. "I need to talk to Solas."

* * *

.

** Solas line from game.


	46. Chapter 46

NOTE: _I'm sorry this took so long to post. I'm now done with the hectic part of the month at work, so things should be calmer now. :)_

* * *

.

"_It occurs to me that the peculiarity of most things we  
think of as fragile is how tough they truly are …  
Even dreams, the most delicate and intangible of things,  
can prove remarkable difficult to kill." ~ _Neil Gaimon

_._

* * *

The worst part about the journey back to Skyhold was not that it was long or that they were all tired from the fighting and the previous days of traveling. It wasn't even the headaches that plaguing Melori or the cold when they crossed into the foothills of the Frostbacks near Emprise du Leon – though that did require them all to unpack their cloaks and furs. It was the fact that every night she had slept since the Temple of Mythal, she dreamed vividly of things she didn't understand and heard voices whispering in elvish – though it was not an elvish she recognized.

Melori spent her days on the road trying to make sense of what it was she was seeing, but it seemed to do little good. To wake up in the middle of the night shaking and gasping was bad enough, but to put Cullen through it seemed cruel when he had his own nightmares to fight. She'd taken to calming herself as quickly and quietly as she could, clinging to the edges of her sanity. Whatever she'd managed to do in the Temple, it lingered and whispered at her dreaming mind. Revas was usually nearby when she woke, staring at her while his tail flipped back and forth across the tent floor.

On the fourth morning, he said, "_You will have to learn how to listen soon_."

"Listen to what?" she'd asked in a whisper, knowing Cullen was at the fire outside. She'd not told him about Revas for a variety of reasons and didn't wish to explain at this late date. The cat stared at her while he licked at one of his paws. Melori growled and grabbed her things together, tugging on her boots and gloves before swinging her cloak across her shoulders and heading out into the crisp winter air.

"What's for breakfast?" she asked, dropping down in front of the fire. Dorian, Illiam, Cullen, Krem, and Blackwall were all huddled in their cloaks with steaming bowls in their hands. The Commander offered her a bowl of her own and she peered into it, pleased to see steaming oats and dried fruit awaiting her. She eyed his armor and scooted closer to Dorian with a small grin, laughing when Cullen protested.

"Where are you going?"

"Your armor is freezing! Dorian is warmer and he smells like ...," She leaned over and sniffed at Dorian, who tilted his head to one side cooperatively. "Mmm, spices."

"What have I told you, Commander?" Dorian chuckled. "I am, as always, irresistible."

"I smell like soap!" Cullen exclaimed. "And if you want warm armor, you can make that happen quite easily, I'm sure."

Shaking her head and laughing, Melori scooted back over to him and laid a hand on his armor, using her warming spell till he sighed happily and leaned against her. She ducked her head to hide the blush that wouldn't go away and worked on her breakfast. "How many more days till we're back?"

"Five, I think," Blackwall answered, looking up from his breakfast.

"If the pass is still clear," Cullen amended. "Though, I haven't had any reports that it isn't, so we ought to make it back in good time if nothing unexpected happens along the way."

* * *

They rode past Emprise du Leon sometime before noon, stopping by the camp on the road to resupply and talk to the scouts maintaining the camp. Things were improving since the Inquisitor had run off the red Templars and defeated the demon in the castle. The locals had food now and repairs were under way in the village. Melori was crunching her way between the buildings when she heard footsteps behind her, loud and heavy, and, for a moment, felt a little nervous to turn around.

"Hey, Ribbons!"

She looked up to find Bull beside her, returning her look with one of his own. "You've been quiet since we left the Wilds. Anything on your mind?"

"Just the usual," she smiled, wondering if the Hissrath would realize how much of a lie that was. He gave her a sideways glance and shook his heavy, horned head.

"So the Commander, huh? I was wondering how long that would take."

"You were?" Melori glanced up at him. "It ... It's a little embarrassing to explain now that I'm trying to. Um, we just ... ," she raised her hands to her flaming face and changed the subject. "Did your Chargers make it through the fight all right?"

"Oh yeah!" he chuckled. "Though we would have liked to take down that dragon before it took off."

"You've collecting quite a few dragon kills since you started working for the Inquisitor," Melori grinned. "Maybe you'll get another chance to take that one down."

"I'm definitely looking forward to it," he laughed. "You'll have to come celebrate with me when we're done! Krem tells me you like the strong stuff."

"Oh, Creator," Melori shook her head, making a face. "Varric and Krem like to give me the strong stuff so they can see what happens afterward. I'm not sure 'like' is the correct term."

"It's definitely entertaining," he answered, head tilting as a cry echoed off the mountains in the distance. A slow grin curved the corners of his mouth as he listened. "Hear that? There are dragons up there."

"Oh, no. No no _no_," Melori laughed. "You are not pulling us into a dragon fight ... not after the last one!"

LINEBREAK

Bellowing shards of ice as big as halberds and nearly as sharp, the dragons coated the tops of the ancient towers, buffeting back their attackers with the power of their forward swept wings and sending nearly everyone slipping and sliding across the stones. The three mages worked hard to nullify the effect of the freezing breath magic, but with two dragons it was difficult. Iron Bull and Blackwall kept the more vicious of the two beasts occupied while Cullen faced the second, giving the mages time to work their magic into its hide.

Vivienne, who had infinitely more powerful wards than the other two, kept Cullen on his feet – though Melori found it difficult to watch him standing face to face with a dragon after the events at the Temple. It was comforting to know that the Chargers were with them this time, working with a kind of chaotic precision that spoke of years of camaraderie and trust. When Krem's hammer joined the swords, the dragon weakened, staggering to its knees, and a cheer went up.

The second dragon soon found itself backed into a corner. Blackwall had his shield up, hacking away at the creature's front leg, when he was unceremoniously swatted with a foreclaw and slid over the side of the tower with a cry. Cullen and Bull raced forward while Illiam and Cole raced to the edge, trying to see where the Grey Warden had gone. The mages redoubled their efforts, pouring down fire while Vivienne kept the fighters safe. The Chargers threw in with their Chief, shouting over the sound of blades and magic and the roaring of dragon breath in the cold air.

This creature seemed to sense that this was the end of its days and fought with wild fury. It was like trying to stand against a screaming mountain that threw itself at them with brutal force. The tail lashed and pitched, catching Melori, Dorian, and Dalish, nearly tossing them off the top of the ruin after Blackwall as they tried to evade the snaking, twisting thing. Dorian and Dalish slid into the broken ruins on one side of the ancient tower, and Melori flew sideways, skidded across a patch of ice, and fell down the stairs until she came to a halt against one of the walls and the world went dark.

* * *

Fires rise in the shadows, lifting from the body of a great mass of people who murmur and shout in restless, angry voices. Soldiers march her through the crowd, her bare feet stumbling across the cobblestones, their hands tight on her arms. Ahead of her, a pyre has been built with a stake at the center. The crowd calls a name and she realizes with horror that it is meant for her. The soldiers shove her forward, grabbing her hands to chain her to the stake, and she is turned toward the crowd.

A familiar face looks out at her, eyes full of sorrow, a familiar orb clutched to his chest. She gasps out, "My friend!" but the soldiers tighten the ropes and she can say no more. Back bent with sorrow, he turns away and the fires rise, the smoke blacking out the sky, turning her vision dark ...

The whispers shift and surge. She sees light ahead of her, the orb in the hands of the darkly tanned elf from her Temple vision. His eyes are that same familiar gray, though this time he is alarmed, his hand stretching toward her. Pain eclipses her and she falls, rage flaring at the betrayal, and she cries out to him - to warn him, her hand stretching toward his as she tells him to go, to run away. "_Nae vir, Fen Harel! Nae vir, ma falon_!" His face twists in pain and he hesitates, but she is dying and her vision fades...

Melori is in the dark in the depths of the Arbor Wilds, surrounded by flowers and greenery. A statue of Mythal stands before her and a familiar book lies across her hands, the carefully stitched tree on the cover. Her fingers grasps it tightly, the scent of herbs and wood smoke rising to her nostrils as she opens it. The pages are old and crisp with age, the hand writing careful and lovely. Her finger traces one of the runes and she hears a voice, familiar and heart breaking:

"You would risk everything you have in the hope that the future is better? What if it isn't? What if you wake up to find the future you shaped is worse than what was?" **

* * *

She opened her eyes and found herself lying on the steps of the tower, her head pounding from what had to be an ugly knot on the back of her skull. Revas was sitting on her leg, his green eyes intent on her face. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she felt sick to her stomach. What had she just seen? Surely ... no, she'd definitely hit her head too hard. That hadn't been Solas's voice at the end. It couldn't have been.

There was an earth shaking sound and she covered her head as shards of stone rattled off the structure, remembering the dragon. How long had she been unconscious? "It's not dead yet?"

"_Almost_," The cat said, jumping down. "_You heard them this time, didn't you_?"

"Maybe," she answered, searching for her staff. When she found it, she swayed to her feet and made her way back up the stairs. The cat followed her, rubbing against her legs as she climbed. It was a little like being drunk, her vision was swimming and she missed a step, stumbling.

"_It's almost over_," he purred. "_You're doing so well._"

"What are you talking about?" She muttered, jerking as the tower shook again. "Mythal protect us ..."

The dragon was in its death throes when she poked her head up over the ledge. It's entire body spasmed and twisted as it died. Bull had somehow climbed on top of it and was shouting like madman as the thing shook and fell. Everyone else was too busy trying to avoid being crushed to be paying much attention to him. Melori spotted Cullen dodging a flailing foot the size of a druffallo and sighed in relief.

"There you are!" Dorian called out, running for the stairs as the tail swiped past his head. The Tevinter mage was favoring his left leg, and he had a rip in his coat sleeve that stretched from shoulder to elbow. He came to a halt next to her and they ducked the tail together. "I half suspected you'd decided to join Blackwall over the edge," Dorian chuckled, watching the mad Qunari ride the dragon. "Iron Bull should visit Nevarra."

"This was his idea, you know," Melori groused, watching as the dying creature finally stilled. "Two dragons in one day? We're all going to be so drunk when we get back to Skyhold."

* * *

The Chargers harvested the dragon for hide and bone, while Lady Vivienne made sure that everyone was healed properly. Blackwall had been located and was in his tent now, being patched up by Stitches before Vivienne could heal him. He'd broken his arm, but was otherwise in remarkably good condition considering how far he'd fallen. Dorian and Dalish were sitting by the fire, having already been healed, and were bickering with Illiam, who was taking great delight in insisting that Dalish _must_ be a mage while the two mages denied it emphatically - which was making Melori laugh, despite the head injury.

"Do you never take a wayward blow or find yourself bled upon during a fight?" Melori asked, blinking at the other woman's pristine robes. "I sneeze and everything looks wrinkled."

"Practice and quality," Vivienne explained, pressing both her hands to the back of Melori's head and concentrating. Pale green light flowed around and Melori made a happy sound as the pain began to fade. "If one knows which fabrics to wear and when, it is possible to look elegant at all times."

"I may have acquired too many Ferelden habits," Melori admitted, then yelped as Vivienne took hold of her arm and pulled it straight. "Oh ... that's … ow."

"Do be still. If we do not treat this now, you will be unable to ride in the morning."

"Right ... " Melori made a face and tried to sit still, her face twisting at the pain. When it was over, she nodded sharply and moved her arm back and forth, "That's better."

"Good," Vivienne stood and made her way toward Blackwall's tent. "I will tend to the Warden's injuries now, my Dear. Do not overuse that limb, it's sure to stiffen up, otherwise."

Melori nodded and stood, glad to see that the ground had stopped tilting every which way. Her headache was also gone, she noticed. Bidding the others good night, she walked back to the tent, stripping off her boots and gloves, jacket and leather breaches before burrowing under the covers until they covered everything but the end of her braid. The blankets were chilly, but warmed as she curled up beneath them. Closing her eyes, she remembered the pyre and the shivered. Had that been ... no. That could _not _have been Andraste. Could it?

"Could what have been Andraste?" Cullen's voice was warm as he ducked into the tent - he'd been remarkably pleased with everyone since the dragons had fallen. Melori drew the blankets down and blinked at him. It was growing dark outside, but she could see him smiling, his eyes on her as he unbuckled his armor. "You sometimes talk to yourself, you know."

"I dreamed I was Andraste, I think," Melori admitted. "Andraste on her way to the fire, her friend Shartan watching from the edge of the crowd."

He paused and blinked at her, "Did you convert to the Chantry and not inform me, or are you often given to dreaming religious subjects?"

"I have not converted, and I've never dreamed I was Andraste before today," Melori answered, shivering as he finished stripping off his armor and joined her under the covers. Cullen drew a finger up the back of her neck, and Melori ducked back under the covers, laughing. "Your hands are like ice!"

"Isn't it lovely?" he chuckled, pulling her tight to his still chilly body and she shrieked, laughing until he kissed her, which warmed things up considerably. His hands trailed up beneath her shirt and she clung to him, pressing closer.

"You killed a dragon today," she said when they could breathe again. "Two dragons! Iron Bull is going to get us all drunk when we get back, you know?"

"I look forward to it," he murmured, lips trailing down the side of her neck in a distracting fashion. Melori's fingers tangled in his curls and she bit her lip to keep form moaning. No one had teased them yet for being too loud, but he made it awfully difficult to keep quiet - it was only a matter of time. They tangled together beneath the covers, ignoring the pains and aches of the recent fight until weariness took over and they simply pressed together.

"If you weren't here... ," Cullen began, his voice trailing off. After a moment he sighed and said quietly. "I was worried coming through this area would be difficult for me."

"Is it?" she asked, thinking of the red lyrium mines so nearby. Her fingers found his and she squeezed gently.

"Not as much as it might have been," he admitted, kissing her forehead, his lips lingering over her vallaslin. He'd admitted he liked the branching golden design and the way she shivered when he traced it. "You distract me from dwelling on it. The dragons helped, as well."

Melori laughed, "Dragons and me, hmm? That's all it takes?"

"That's not enough?" He breathed, smiling crookedly.

* * *

The path in her dreams was broken and tangled. She was following a figure in the distance, uncertain if she wanted to catch up to him. He held the orb in his hand, gleaming and pulsing with green light. Melori followed along, weariness pulling her down, her feet seeming heavy and tired. It was all she could do to keep walking, to stay on the path that lay between them. She saw him pause, saw another figure silhouetted against a red lyrium glow. He set the orb in a great clawed hand and stepped away. Melori gasped in horror and fell to her knees.

Revas was lying on her hand when she awoke, his eyes gleaming greenly. They stared at one another for long time before he rose and left the tent, white tail curling behind him.

* * *

.

NOTE: "_Nae vir, Fen Harel! Nae vir, ma falon!" _= Go, Dread Wolf! Go, my friend!" Nae = the ancient version of Na. ((Dalish lexicon))

** Solas quote from game.


	47. Chapter 47

_Suddenly I knew that you'd have to go  
My world was not yours, your eyes told me so  
Yet it was there I felt the crossroads of time  
And I wondered why….  
As you turned to go I heard you call my name,  
You were like a bird in a cage spreading its wings to fly  
"The old ways are lost," you sang as you flew  
And I wondered why._

~ Loreena McKennitt, _The Old Ways_

.

* * *

The gates of Skyhold loomed at the top of the rise and Melori stared up through the evening light, her lips twisting to the side. In the days that it had taken to ride from Emprise du Leon to the castle, she'd alternated between the pleasure of Cullen's company in the evenings and the misery of wondering what would happen when she talked to Solas. Surely it could only have been a dream brought on by stress, a head injury, and spending all her time with a devoted Andrastean.

Did it mean that he was Fen'Harel? Or did it mean that Solas was something else – someone who knew the truth? She'd overheard Iron Bull mentioning how Solas was different than any mage he'd ever seen – that where most mages had trouble hiding their power, his was subtle, almost unnoticeable unless you were looking for it. Add to that his broad knowledge on everything relating to ancient Arlathan and the Fade, and his anger at the ignorance of the Dalish.

Could anyone have learned all of that while living on their own in the wilds? Even if they did walk through dreams … it seemed insane to assume it. The _elvhen_ in the Temple of Mythal had walked in the days of Arlathan, so it was possible that Solas had done the same. To sleep for so long in Uthenera only to wake to find the world so changed – it hurt even to consider it.

And what did it mean if he had? What would it mean if he were Fen'harel?

She rode through the gates and into the courtyard of Skyhold, lifting her eyes to the round walls of the tower, and pressed her lips together. Whatever she did, she had to talk to him about her experiences at the Temple. There was no need to mention the Dread Wolf or Mythal. Not yet.

"Melori?"

Cullen was standing next to her, his saddle bags over his shoulder, looking up with a worried expression. Melori felt herself blushing as she realized she'd just been sitting there, staring at the tower while Tempest shifted and flicked his ears at her impatiently. "Oh, I was off in thought."

"All the way in the Anderfels by the look of things," he smiled as she slid out of the saddle and landed on her feet next to him. "Nothing too serious, I hope?"

"Just ... thinking about my research and the Temple," She admitted. "Only a little serious, I promise."

"I suppose it's time to get back to work already …" he mused while she gathered her own bags from Tempest's saddle, one of the stable boys led Tempest off and she smiled up at him a little crookedly.

"Are you recommending another option?"

Cullen chuckled and shook his head. "Maker, I wish I could. Leliana has informed me, however, that my desk is a swamp of paperwork. I may be a bit scarce for a few days."

"I'll make certain to distract you now and then," she promised, glancing around to make sure no one was in earshot before adding. "I can tuck you in tonight, if you like?"

"I would like nothing more," he murmured, bending down to steal a quick kiss before heading toward the wall and the stairs up to his office. Melori watched him go, admiring the line of his back and the way his hair glinted in the torchlight. When he disappeared from view she turned with a deep sigh, taking the steps one at a time, thoughts tumbling over each other.

* * *

After depositing her bags in her room, Melori headed down to the bath where she soaked for a while in hot water and washed her hair. From there she made her way into the study, sleepily braiding her hair over her shoulder while she padded down the book-lined hall. She paused when she saw two figures pressed against one of the bookshelves, locked in an embrace. Skittering to one side like a mouse caught near the cheese drawer, she squinted into the shadows and realized with a start who the two tall figures were.

"I hate you," Dorian was murmuring, his fingers tight in Illiam's hair. The elf was taller than the mage, and he was taking advantage of his height, pale hair falling over his brow as their eyes met. Melori clamped a hand over her mouth, eyes very wide.

"Of course you do," the elf murmured, running his lips along the Tevinter mage's jaw. "Remind me how deeply you loathe me?"

She backed slowly out of her own study, her face heating up till she was sure it was glowing like a Satinela lantern. Shutting the door behind her, she wrapped her robe more tightly around her shoulders and made her way back up the stairs and across the Great Hall. By the time she'd got past all the chatting Orlesians lingering over games of Wicked Grace, she felt a little calmer. Peering into the Atrium, she confirmed that Solas was elsewhere and dashed past the murals and almost made it out onto the wall walk when his voice behind her.

"_Ma falon_?"

"Solas," She breathed, and turned, smiling at him. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to disturb you."

"I was just coming back down from the library," he said, approaching her from across the room. There was something in the way he walked that made her throat tighten around the words she was desperate not to say. Melori swallowed them.

"I haven't seen you since the Arbor Wilds," she said instead, feeling a brush of magic as he stopped near to her. It felt different now, as though something in her senses recognized the power. Her heart beat quickened, and she forced herself to be reasonable, to stop behaving like a rabbit in front of a ... wolf. "You seem well."

"I am," he answered, leaning a shoulder against the wall in the doorway alcove. "There is much to tell you about the Temple as we found it, though I understand you made your own exploration?"

"I did," she nodded, feeling more confident. There was no reason to mention what she'd found, not yet. And this might be safe enough, if they only spoke of the simpler things. "There are a few things I'd like to talk with you about privately regarding that, but ... I ..." she floundered, trying to find the words to describe the Temple of Mythal and her reaction to it.

"I wept for the loss of it," Melori admitted, her voice wavering at the memory. "The Well was empty when I arrived, the eluvian destroyed. The elvhen dead were gone, but the bodies of the Venatori still lay where they'd fallen. To have been a part of the ... end of such a place." She shook her head. "I felt as much a despoiler as Corypheus and his collaborators."

"It was destroyed long ago," Solas said quietly. "An unavoidable loss if we were to prevent Corypheus' from doing what he intended."

She nodded, shivering a little at the memories. "Tomorrow, will you come with me to the ruins outside the castle? The ones along the roadway that we always talk about studying but never do? I wanted to talk to you about something, but not here where anyone could stumble in."

"Of course," he answered, smiling a little. "I would enjoy taking a closer look, as well as hearing about what you found in the Temple of Mythal."

"Good," she nodded, turning toward the door out onto the wall-walk. "I will find you in the morning, then."

* * *

They met at the gate early the next morning and hiked down the road and through the camp in the valley below. Melori found the cold, bright air refreshing and felt her head clear the further they walked. What she was about to do ... well, she had come this far, hadn't she? The information she'd gathered was sound, to a point, and anything beyond that was speculation. Perhaps he would simply laugh at her or tell her to stop being ridiculous.

The ruins were set into the hillside. A small shrine surrounded by high, half-broken elven arches that reached in lacy fingers toward the sky. Boulders from the mountainside had nearly crushed a few of them, but the site was in reasonably good condition, and they spent an hour or so climbing over the rocks and studying the architecture before they were willing to step into the circle around the altar itself. The statue of the god was gone, probably destroyed by one of the followers of Andraste who had once inhabited Skyhold, but the carving on the altar remained.

"This was a stop for those heading to the ancient site where Skyhold now stands," Solas said, brushing the snow from the altar top with his bare hand. "_Tarasyl'an Te'las_ once had a ceremonial path leading to its summit, as do most holy sites."

"I remember the gauntlet the Warden had to cross in order to reach the ashes of Andraste," Melori said, eyes still tracing the runes carved into the lip of the altar. "It was not active when we encountered it, of course, but Brother Genitivi said that he did not think the followers of Andraste created it. He believed the Temple had been built on top of a far older site."

"It most likely was," Solas agreed, shaking the snow from his palm.

"When I was in the Temple of Mythal," she said quietly, watching him. "I took your advice from when we were becoming friends."

"I've given you a great deal of advice, _da'len_," He answered, turning to look at her, and she gave a laugh at the idea of the Dread Wolf serving as her _hahren_. The longer she stood here, watching him among the ruins and feeling the deep breadth of his skill and magic, the more certain the idea became.

"I sat at the edge of the empty well. I drank a lyrium potion, and then I drank a sleeping draught," Melori said quietly. "I wanted to see what it had been like, before ... before it fell."

"_Ma falon _..." his voice caught and he stopped himself, his fingers knotting into a fist. "That was not a safe place for such an exercise."

"You're not wrong about that," Melori admitted. Her feet sank into the snow as she paced along the lip of the stone circle at the base of the altar, her arms folded over her chest. "I think that I chanced upon whatever remained of the power of the well itself. Everything was … foggy and muddled. There were voices, too, and it took days for them to fade even after I woke. I …," She glanced up at him, meeting his gaze. "I saw Falon'din walking the halls, pale and dark, with such a strange look in his eyes."

She had his attention now, riveted on her as she spoke. Melori swallowed, her nails biting into her palms. "I saw another of the _elvhen_, tall and tanned, dark hair half-shaved and twisted back along his crown. Eyes like storm clouds and an orb clutched in his hands. There was something about him that was … familiar."

He exhaled, took a step forward and Melori shook her head. "There is more. There's always more, you know. I saw Mythal, too. Not as she would have been in those days, but as she is now. I realized that I've seen her before and we spoke … she was not a memory."

"In the Wastes." It wasn't a question. "You saw her there."

"I spoke to her," she nodded, "And after the Temple, I heard the voices from the Well for days and days. And then I saw the orb in the Temple of Mythal, I saw it in the hands of Shartan while Andraste burned, and I saw it given to Corypheus."

"And you believe you have the truth," he said, a hint of challenge in his voice.

"I found a common thread and I pulled it," Melori answered, looking at him. "What I _believe?_ It frightens me. _You_ frighten me."

"I?" He stepped close to her, shaking his head. "What have I done to frighten you?"

"Perhaps it's what you intend to do," she answered, tilting her head to look up at him. "I know that it took Morrigan's interference to save the life of the Hero of Ferelden. The spirit of Urthemial could not have inhabited Alistair or Surana without destroying them, but given a proper vessel? Urthemial was preserved and the vessel lived. It makes a certain terrible sense. Mythal lives on in the body of Flemeth, her soul a fragment of the greater whole just as Corypheus must do to come back from the dead over and over again."

"You know a great deal, it seems." His tone was dry, but she found herself shivering, her fingers twisting together.

"I know Fen'Harel did not murder Mythal, not when she bade him run away as she died. If her soul is still here when all the other gods were trapped, if souls _do _fragment and inhabit mortal beings ...," she paused, lifting her eyes to his. "The Dread Wolf has such a familiar gaze," she whispered, watching the way his expression shifted. "Am I on the right path? If I say who you are, will you deny it?"

"No," he exhaled, so still and quiet that he barely breathed.

"_You_ were the thread I pulled … the Dread Wolf," she whispered, heart hammering in her chest as she forced herself to remember that whoever he was, this was also Solas. Her friend. A trickster god from elven legend.

"You should be afraid," he said, his voice harsh. "These are not words to speak lightly."

"You know more than any apostate should ever know, no matter how deep your journeys into the Fade. And while you could be planning any number of things, only a few truly make sense. " She shook her head, "You watched Andraste burn, Solas. I saw you on the edge of the crowd. I know where … I know where Corypheus obtained the orb he uses."

"Melori ..."

"It doesn't matter now … even if we defeat Corypheus, you're not finished, are you?" she shook her head, looking back at him, "Whatever it is you have to do ... just, please don't get us all killed?"

He laughed then, a ragged sound, and she found herself embraced, held so tightly she almost could not breathe, felt his heartbeat beneath her cheek and murmured. "I fear what is coming next."

"I know," he answered.

"Please ..." her words trailed off into uncertainty. How do you ask a the god who happens to be your teacher and dear friend not to destroy everything you hold dear while he attempts to right the world? She shut her eyes, pressed her face into his shoulder, her head barely reaching his chin. He smelled of fire, herbs, and magic, so solidly _real_. She felt him press a kiss to her forehead and then he pulled away.

"_Ir abelas, ma falon,"_ he breathed. She watched him turn and walk down the hill, back to the path leading toward the castle and realized she was trembling.

* * *

The walk back to the castle was all uphill and very long. By the time she made it to the gate, Melori was hot and sweaty, despite the cold air. Halfway up the stairs to the upper courtyard, Cole appeared at her elbow – which didn't surprise her particularly, though she wasn't certain if he'd done so by magic or if he was just that good at sneaking around.

"The cat said you would be back soon," she was informed.

"The cat occasionally knows what it's talking about," Melori answered.

"The Inquisitor and the Commander left with Bull and Cassandra to find Blackwall," he said, matching her pace. "The Commander wanted to tell you, but you were away."

"What? Where did Blackwall go?"

"To Orlais. He expects to be dead a day after he gets there," Cole answered. "He says he's a Grey Warden to hide what he was, but he's not sure anymore. It's the only thing to do. It's the honorable path. He wishes to atone."

"Are you sure you're talking about the same Blackwall I am?" Melori asked, pausing in the grass beside the steps up to the Great Hall. "Large, a little grumpy, fantastically uninformative about his chosen Order?"

"He felt he had to go," Cole said. "He's told so many lies."

"Creator …," Melori exhaled, turning up the stairs toward the Great Hall. "Well, hopefully they'll find him and help him."

"There's a door open," Cole said as they entered the Great Hall, turning his head toward the door leading into the garden. "Revas has tired of waiting."

"What?" Melori asked, blinking at him. After the morning she'd has so far, the cryptic tones were beginning to wear on her patience. "What are you talking about?"

"Here, the garden," Cole said, grabbing her arm and towing her through the door and out into the greenery toward the room where Morrigan kept the eluvian. Pulling her arm from his as they approached, she gently pushed the door inward, a bright blue glow making her gasp – the eluvian was gleaming and swirling, open for anyone to stumble through. "Morrigan is inside?"

He shook his head, "She went with the Inquisitor."

Melori looked around, her eyes wide. "Cole, I'm going to check inside to make sure no one's gone in and become lost. Try to keep anyone else out of here?"

"But what if they can help you?"

"Well, if it's someone like Solas or Dorian, that's fine," She answered, floating her hand across the bright surface. "But … if it closes while I'm still inside? Find Morrigan."

* * *

.

NOTE: _This particular fic subscribes to the idea that Andraste was a vessel of Mythal and that Shartan is Solas. This may never become canon, but it makes for an interesting story. : ) _


	48. Chapter 48

NOTE: _I consulted my friend about whether or not going through the eluvian into the Fade took a person into the Fade of dreams or the actual Fade, and we decided it took a person into the actual Fade. True or not, this is what I'm going with for this particular story :D Enjoy!_

* * *

.

_Do not lose hope — what you seek will be found.  
Trust ghosts. Trust those that you have helped to  
help you in their turn. Trust dreams. Trust your  
heart, and trust your story _~ Neil Gaimon  
.

* * *

The power of the eluvian glittered as she pressed through, feeling the song against her skin and the wash of shimmering heat as she passed through the light into the space beyond. There was a feeling of connection for the briefest second, as though she were entangled in something that pulled and flexed around her, and she opened her eyes on the other side to see not the beautiful, abandoned crossroads, but the melted, broken remnants of darkness and the Fade. Her boots slid across the slick stones as she came to a halt, automatically looking up to where the Black City ought to be ... and wasn't. Instead, all she saw was the swirling green light of the rift, high in the sky above her.

"What ...?"

Unlike other dreams of the Fade, her staff was still in its place across her back, her journal and equipment heavy against her spine, and her armor glistened with the moisture that seemed to coat everything on this side of the eluvian. Turning, she saw that it still stood, gleaming with strange blue light behind her, and breathed a sigh of relief. Evidence said this was not the misty Fade of dreaming, but the _actual_ place. The eluvian had done what the inquisitor's mark did, and now ... Melori swallowed hard, fear coursing through her veins. Hesitating, she considered stepping back through the gleaming light behind her, but if Revas was here, lost or alone ...

"Mythal help me, you damn cat," she muttered, reaching back for her staff as she stepped down onto the twisting pathway. Chasind statues littered the walls, and, overhead, towers of broken architecture drifted in the void, long curls of mist rising between them. It smelled foul, acrid - as though some ancient being had died and she were walking through its veins. Her stomach twisted, sickened, and she forced herself to breathe through her nose. Ahead of her stood a broken Tevinter statue, it's hand lost in a morass of stone, and, flicking on the edge of her vision, a ghostly green figure blinked nearly out of view before it threw fire at her head.

Using magic _within_ the Fade was a weirdly liquid experience she discovered as she summoned a ward and began to cast in return. The wisp shrieked and faded, drifting in a bright green remnant as it disintegrated. In the distance, she heard a deep laugh and froze, her fingers white knuckled around her staff. Pride demons were powerful and dangerous, and she was alone.

"Avoid it, then," she whispered to herself, moving forward, watchful and terrified. "Come along, Revas. Where did you go?"

The path curved and twisted in on itself. She found a few more wisps, all easily destroyed with only a little loss of magic. Now and then she came across vignettes of lost memories - an aravel sitting beside a stream, a broken statue pointing into the void, a campfire with a pile of books beside a bedroll. Some of the things she found were more disturbing, however. Skulls peered at her from the center of Tevinter columns, manacles held the wrists of long-dead skeletons, and faces screamed in eternal silence from the broken rock.

As Melori walked, she whispered the lyrics of one of Maryden's songs to comfort herself - the funny one about the nug and the Nightingale, though her voice shook as she spoke the words into the depths of the Fade. Ahead of her she saw the flash of gleaming orange hands and heard the clicking of demon's bones as it shifted. A rage demon moved about the space beyond and Melori made a sudden step sideways and back when the clicking popped nearly at her feet, her staff blade swinging up to catch the terror demon as it lunged, trying to knock her off her over. The demon shrieked, spasming as lightning caught and killed it. Before the Rage demon could reach her, she twisted her staff around and sent bolts of crackling energy and light into the fiery shape.

The demon flared and died, disappearing from sight, and Melori felt calmer, less afraid ... if only a little.

* * *

Eventually, she had to stop and eat some of the dried fruit she'd packed in her bag for the little expedition with Solas, which seemed like it had happened an age ago now. Leaning against a statue of Andraste while she chewed on a handful of raisins and nuts, she wondered what she would do if she could not find Revas. The path back to the eluvian was a twisting one, but there had not been any branches off of it ... had there? The idea of being lost in the Fade was almost more frightening than being attacked by a Pride demon. She swallowed a drink of water from her canteen and packed it all away.

Ahead of her, down a small turn in the path, she heard the sound of someone speaking. Carefully, quietly, she crept forward, hiding behind the rocks and leaning around them to see who it was.

An elven man dressed in a green and gold Keeper's robe paced around a large book on a lecturn. His hands were clasped behind his back and his head was bent as he frowned, a long, pale braid sliding over his shoulder. An older elf, his face was lightly wrinkled, though his eyes gleamed with green light, as though he had somehow tapped into the Fade itself. He was beautiful in an unearthly way, as though a hero of elven legend had dropped into the Fade, beauty heightened by sorrow and rage.

The book before him radiated a sickening, black malice that had Melori clamping a hand over her mouth to keep from retching. It_ felt_ like red lyrium, the way it sang and pulled at the senses, though the elf seemed unaware of it. He was speaking to the book as he walked back and forth, back and forth.

"I have done all you asked of me," he complained, and Melori drew in a sharp breath. This was a voice she recognized, a familiar sound in an unfamiliar face. He did not seem to notice, speaking in a low tone, intense and angry. "You promised me vengeance if I did what was asked of me. You promised me freedom."

If the book answered, she could not hear it. But he seemed to, his hands lifting to cover his face, his shoulders bowing forward in soul-deep sorrow. "I cannot continue! What good is it to know the name of a dead god! What chance do I have to change anything?"

He cried out then, as though in agony, falling to his knees on the rough stone, his hands pressed into the slick damp of the rotting Fade. "I cannot do as you ask!"

And then his head lifted and his eyes turned toward Melori, green eyes narrowing into gleaming slits. Slowly, he rose and Melori found herself backing away, one step at a time, her hands slipping along the wall beside her till she ran into a screaming Chasind statue and had to stop. The other elf came around the bend, his body limned in a reddish glow.

"You came after me," he said, head tilting to one side. He was rail thin, his hands bony with long, sharp fingers that splayed like open claws as he spoke. "You should have stayed away."

"You went through the eluvian," she answered, clinging to her staff. "How did you open it? How did you lose your shape?"

"It was already opened, and I simply took back the shape born to me," He answered, flicking his braid over his shoulder before running his hands along the shaved sides of his skull. "You have your answers now, don't you? our deal is done."

"What do you mean "our deal"?" Melori asked, eyes narrowed. "We had no deal."

"So quickly you forget," he sneered as he paced in front of her, so like the cat she'd become used to seeing that she could almost imagine his tail sweeping behind him in an angry arc. "You don't remember you own Harrowing?"

"We made no deals during my Harrowing, and we've made none since," she insisted, clinging to her staff. "Why are we here?"

He glared at her, his lip curling as he spoke. "I was once as you are, mortal in a mortal world. I was first of my clan and then keeper, traveling from hiding place to hiding place while the Chantry sought to destroy us and the Tevinter hunted us like animals. We were stricken by hunger - we were dying."

"You were desperate," Melori said, not certain where he was going with the tale.

"I found my way to a hut in the center of the swamps," he answered, his fingers flexing as he spoke, his strange eyes unwavering, unblinking. "I could feel power hidden inside and thought to take it, to heal my clan. But I was captured and slain before I could escape. The witch who killed me bound my spirit to the grimoire and left me in the dark." HIs pitch shifted, plaintive and longing. "I waited for her to return, waited and waited, never knowing what happened to my people, unknowingly abandoned by my own goddess ... and then, there you were, a child in a tower. Alone and unwanted. A beacon in the dark."

"Oh, no," Melori's voice broke, her hands clutched to her chest.

His eyes gleamed and Melori had to look away, squinting toward him as he laughed, a high pitched sound. "Don't you see? You know her secrets now! You can free me!"

"I don't know how," she answered, shaking her head. "You know who it was who bound you. Could you not ask her to release you?"

"I was judged by Mythal to be unworthy," his voice broke and he collapsed to his knees. "There is no way out for me without your aid."

"Revas," Melori whispered, stepping cautiously forward. "I ... I can try to find her. I can ask her to free you."

"You would do that?" he said, still looking at the ground. She laid a hand on his shoulder, knelt down beside him.

"Of course," she said softly. "You are my friend, are you not?"

"I am nothing of the sort," he growled, and she felt the magic of him shift beneath her touch as his hands grasped round her waist, claws extending into her armor and through. Melori gasped and her staff fell from her fingers. Instinctively, she thought to get away, the liquid magic of the fade falling into her grasp, and she shifted across the space between them, falling to her knees as blood seeped through the chinks in her mail, gasping for breath. Reaching for her wards, she summoned the healing barrier that Vivienne had taught her, felt the sudden dizzying pain ease and staggered to her feet as he rose, his elongated fingers dripping with her blood.

"Break my bindings," he demanded, pointing a narrowed, spindled finger toward her.

"I cannot," she answered, her voice shaking with terror.

He shook his head, a low, demonic chuckle emanating from him. "Ahhh, Enara," he hissed, stretching a hand out to one side, a long arcing blade appearing in his grasp, black metal tinged with fade magic and gleaming a sickening red. "Your blood will do."

"Revas?" She backed away from him, gasping as he strode forward, blade turning as it swept forward. Melori made a helpless sound and ducked the blade, shifting to the side and rolling past him, running toward her staff where it lay on the ground. She heard him behind her as her fingers closed on the metal and she turned just in time to feel his blade score along the mail cover her arm. Magic flared and she slammed the staff into the ground, force erupting in a circle around her, thrusting him back and away from her. She sagged, leaning on the staff and trying to ignore the pain of her wounds, watching him with narrowed eyes.

Revas hit stone and fell, but it seemed to have barely injured him, and he climbed back to his feet with a crooked smile. "I am not so easily defeated, Melori."

"That doesn't mean you should make me want to try," she retorted, straightening her back with a wince. "I can't break your bindings, but that doesn't mean I can't find out how."

"You would break Mythal's chains? " he laughed and shook his head. "I think you would find the task too great. Or are you that prideful? Do you really think you could do such a thing?"

"Pride has nothing to do with it," she shot back. "Why should I not try to help you? You've helped me so many times!"

"I? Helped you?" His smile was blood flecked, his eyes creasing as his mouth stretched wide. "I delivered you to the blood mage on two separate occasions! In Tevinter, I whispered lies into your ears. And it was I who suggested you delve into Mythal's secrets, knowing what she had done to me in the past. Over and over again, I have led you down the wrong path, and you have listened! You have done it! I waited only till you grew in power so I could take you for my own."

"What?"

"Melori Enara," the spirit said, head tilting back as he laughed, lifting a bloody hand into the air before him. "I will drink you down like a tonic, I will dance in your blood and break the power that binds me. And you will not resist me."

* * *

The pressure on her mind was a familiar weight, crushing and painful and _demanding. _Melori felt her knees going limp beneath her, felt herself sprawling forward as Revas approached. His power pulled at her, demanding her attention, her obedience. She tried to focus ... tried to see clearly. Not bound, not yet. His will was strong, but this ... she heard Vivienne's voice in her head, that sharp, chilly voice as the other mage demanded she focus her will, that she do as she was told.

"Creator ..." she gasped, throwing a hand forward, summoning every bit of magic she could reach. It was not a powerful dispel, but it was strong enough - and he did not expect it. The pressure eased abruptly, and she rolled to her side, clinging to the slick rocks as she levered herself to her feet, lifting the staff again. Her vision shivered and blurred, static energy flaring around her, striking off the walls and off his blade, forcing him to a standstill.

Step by slow step, she walked backward, praying that Cullen would hear her, would turn his horse around and race back to Skyhold. Behind her, she could feel the presence of the tome, it's energy malevolent and grasping, singing in sickening wavelengths against her skin. Her eyes narrowed, focus tightening as she straightened her back, still wavering a little on her feet.

"Why did you take me to the Well? What was it that you needed there?" she asked, backing up another step, turning slightly. If she could keep him distracted ...

"If you had even a little of her power, even a hint of what she was or knew, you would be that much more capable of removing the chains," he said, coming ever closer, his pale head tilted down, his eyes incandescent. He lifted his hand and the rocks around them groaned and shook, the ground heaving. Melori staggered and fell to one knee with a mental curse. "But, in the end, you went quiet. Dark. Lost in your own head. You didn't have any of her power. it was all memory and headaches." He shook his head, "Such a waste of energy. So much time I could have spared had I slit your throat when you first appeared in the Fade."

He reached down and grabbed her by the hair, lifting her up to her feet while she kicked and cried out in pain. "I suppose now will do just as well."

Behind him, she saw a glimmer of movement, a floppy hat and a pale face. Terrified, Melori tried desperately to think of the book, that destroying it would _help_ ... that it would _fix _everything. Revas lifted his hand, fingers extending into horrifying claws, the joints distended and popped, the fingers already bloody. His hand drew back -

And the entire area went white hot with an explosion of force. Power shattered in every direction and they were thrown apart as red light flared all around. Melori felt something hit her in the side as she went flying, rolling across the stones and into one of the broken walls nearby, her breath knocked from her body, her vision blackening. Groaning, she tried to sit up from beneath the weight across her torso and fell back.

"Did I help?" the hat that blocked her view lifted and she saw Cole's pale face above hers, earnest and worried eyes peering into her own. Melori laughed, then groaned again, nodding.

"Yes. You helped, Cole," she admitted. He climbed slowly off of her, helping her to stand, though she had a hard time straightening up all the way. Across from them, in the shifting crater made by the explosion, she saw a small, pale shape lying on its side in among the stones and gave a gasp. Limping over, she dropped to her knees, reaching with gentle hands to touch the white cat's head.

"Revas ..."

"_Ir abelas_," she heard. "_Ir tel'him."_

"I'll take you back," her voice caught, her hands stroking between the snowy ears, one of them torn and bleeding now. "Solas will know how to help you."

"_I ... would rather not,_" he said, purring as her fingers slid over his silky fur. "_This is what I deserve._"

"But ... you were not yourself," she protested. "That ... _thing_ was controlling you."

"_That was but my binding_," came the slow answer. "_I was always the monster ... always ... grasping farther ... than ... my reach. I would have destroyed you._"

He faded when he died, his body fragmenting and slipping into the atmosphere in bits of light, like embers sweeping into the night sky. Melori stared down at her empty hands, rocking back and forth, pain licking at her senses. Cole touched her shoulder with light, birdlike fingers, and she looked up at him.

"I'm supposed to bring you back," he explained. "He made me promise."


	49. Chapter 49

_You see, you closed your eyes. That was the difference.  
Sometimes you cannot believe what you see, you have  
to believe what you feel. And if you are ever going to  
have other people trust you, you must feel that you  
can trust them, too-even when you're in the dark.  
Even when you're falling._ ~ Mitch Albom

.

* * *

Cole led the way into the garden, Melori following in his wake, feeling weary, damp and dirty. It was dark, the stars wheeling overhead above a few stray clouds, and the cloister around the perimeter of the garden was empty. It felt somehow eerie at this time of night and she dropped onto one of the benches with a tired sigh. Her eyes filled with tears and she shivered, lifting a hand to wipe at damp cheeks, almost angry at herself for feeling sad that Revas was gone.

"Librarian? Where have you been?" Varric asked from the garden path. "Are you all right?"

"I ...," she began, drying her eyes as quickly as she could on her dirty sleeve. She chose the safest thing to say, her voice breaking a little on the words. "My cat died."

"So ... wait. You were gone for five days because of your cat?" Varric asked, one of his eyebrows lifting nearly to his hairline. "The Nightingale's gonna _love _that one. Do you know how many people have been searching for you?"

"I've been gone for five days?" Melori asked, her face draining of color. "No, I wasn't ..." she clamped her mouth shut at the look on Varric's face.

"Solas said the last time he saw you, you were down at the ruin along the road. I mean, you do look like something the nug dragged in …," the dwarf explained, coming closer until he almost uncomfortably near, his noise wrinkling. "Oh, Maker. Quite a perfume you've got on you there. You … kind of smell like the Fade."

"I returned from the ruin yester … um … the day Solas and I went there," She explained, still trying to process the idea that she'd been away for five days when it hadn't even felt like one. "I was barely in the Great Hall before Cole took me to the eluvian. It was open. He said my cat had gone into it – so I went through to find Revas. Except, once I did, I wasn't where I thought I would be. I was in the Fade."

"I'm gonna guess your cat wasn't an _ordinary_ cat, was he?" Varric muttered.

"I'm afraid not, no," Melori answered, staring down at the gravel path beneath her feet. It didn't feel real, not exactly. "I didn't know I'd been gone so long."

"Cole told Dorian you were lost," Varric said, shaking his head. "But he kept saying shit like 'It's like the Fade but it can't be!' – not that you were stuck in the eluvian. So Leliana sent her people out to comb the mountainside, looking for a body. When no one found you, she looked further. I think maybe you want to talk to her first before you do anything else."

* * *

Melori sat in a chair next to the fire in Josephine's office watching specks of dust meander through a sun beam. The room smelled of lemon oil and Orlesian herb sachets tossed into the fire, warm and comforting. She'd managed a quick clean-up and a change of clothes, but she still felt grimy, sore, and sick with worry. Leliana had taken one look at her and sent her down to the baths, but she'd had scant time to really clean up before she'd been called to the office and left cooling her heels.

The certainty that this was her last night in Skyhold had taken hold of her with a vengeance and she had only managed to stay in her chair by sheer force of will. The only thing she feared more than being told to go was how Cullen would respond, and she was very carefully avoiding the thought of it. Sitting in the chair like an apprentice outside Irving's office, Melori felt as though she were a little girl again, sent to the top of the tower for not listening to her lessons and crying through the night for her _mamae_.

The door opened and the Inquisitor stepped through. Melori stood to her feet, smoothing down her tunic with a nervous hand. "My Lady."

"Well, I've never seen quite that expression on your face before," the other woman stated, a brow lifting. "I'm not about to order you to your death, Melori."

"Are you going to tell me to leave?" She wanted to get that out of the way immediately, so she wouldn't stand there wondering.

"It was discussed and immediately discarded. No one wishes you to lose you, least of all me. Solas knew of the creature and thought it safe enough, Dorian agreed, and Cole was equally unaware of its intentions. Morrigan has argued that you are not to be held at fault for the actions of a creature obviously intent on corrupting you or for the for traveling through the eluvian, considering she lost Kieran through the thing soon after we returned to Skyhold."

"But … she was not at the castle when I walked through. How was it opened?" Melori asked, hiding her relief in curiosity. "Revas was not that powerful."

"It was likely her mother, Flemeth," The Inquisitor said, a shift in her tone catching Melori's attention for a brief moment before she continued. "Morrigan is looking into it. In the meantime, Leliana said she requires your services and she has refused to give you up. Not that any of us really required her to do so."

"I see," her fingers were knotted together, not certain if she felt relieved or terrified. There'd been no mention of Cullen. She tried to breathe, to relax, to think that it would be all right after all.

"Melori," The Inquisitor's voice caught her out of reverie, and she looked up once more. "Are there any more secrets? Anything else we ought to know?"

Fen'Harel came immediately to mind, but Melori let the thought go immediately. It wasn't her secret to tell, not yet, and Solas was an ally. If it became necessary, she would, but ... she sighed and shook her head. "There are a few things," she admitted. "But I imagine they'd be of more use to Leliana. Nothing regarding demons, my Lady."

"Well, that's something. We've had quite enough of demons for a long, long time, haven't we?"

* * *

Varric was sitting on a bench next to one of the large dwarven statues, his notebook in one hand and a pen in the other. He was writing rapidly, pausing when she appeared, pen lifting from the page. They eyed one another until he sighed heavily, "Curly's not happy. He's had some pretty bad experiences with demons. We all did, in Kirkwall."

"He has every right to be," she acknowledged, her stomach turning.

"I know that expression. We all had that look in our eyes after the Gallows. And I'm not likely to forget Adamant any time soon - not the way it smelled or the way it felt."

"Nor I," Melori whispered, lips compressed. She looked away, trying to catch a breath that was suddenly difficult and tight. "At least I know where the next blow's coming from, right? He waited for me in the Temple of Mythal, terrified I would wake up possessed. And now?" Her lips twisted. "Now I prove even less trustworthy. A demon has been leading me around by the nose for nearly a decade."

"Hey now," he chided, patting her elbow. "Don't give up on Curly. The man's no coward ... I mean, he's with _you_ \- an apostate mage who _insists_ she's a librarian. For a guy with his history? That takes balls."

Melori blinked at him. "I think I ought to have been drunk for that one, Varric."

He chuckled, "Yeah, yeah. Just remember, Cullen doesn't do anything lightly."

* * *

His office door was standing open, the backs of his captains standing like a tall forest between her and the desk. Melori leaned against the wall and wished she'd thought to drain another health potion. Her sides ached where the former cat had stabbed her, and she felt sick still, unable to get the stench of the Fade out of her nose. The dreaming side of the Fade was far more pleasant to the nose. Listening to the sound of Cullen's voice, made her feel a little less nervous, though that would likely change once he saw her.

When they'd all been dismissed, she knocked on the door, catching a glimpse of his bright hair as he looked up from his desk, the sunlight striking his armor at the perfect angle. Wrapping her arms across her waist, she shivered a little as his brows came down and she stepped into the office. He came around the desk, passing her and shutting the door behind her without a word.

"I …" she began, turning to look up at him. Her mouth closed on the words at the look in his eyes, at the heat in his gaze, the sadness there. Her stomach clenched.

"Something you want to tell me?" He asked, his voice remarkably calm, still standing close enough to touch. "Maybe something along the lines of, 'We were traveling with a possessed cat and I never bothered to mention it to you.' Or, perhaps, I went through an eluvian and didn't bother to tell anyone where I was going except the spirit boy who reads everyone's minds?"

"I'm sorry. Cullen, I-"

"I understand why you would not trust me, Melori," he interrupted her, turning away and moving across the room, his shoulders bent beneath his armor. "I know what kind of man I was, but it will never be enough, will it?"

"You're wrong! That's not it at all" Melori exclaimed. "I didn't tell you because at the time Revas appeared, everything was new between us. I didn't want to ruin it by telling you I had a spirit following me around. I wasn't even sure what to make of it myself. Please, this is _my_ fault, not yours."

"I cannot talk about this now," he said, meeting her eyes across the room. "If you have not heard, Blackwall has lived beneath an even darker cloak than your own. The Inquisitor will sit in judgment on him tomorrow and we have had a long journey home."

* * *

In the early hours several mornings later, Melori lay sprawled in bed, her face half buried in a pillow, sick and still awake no matter how she tried to sleep. She'd spent the last few nights not sleeping. When she did, a variety of nightmares danced through her head, exacerbated by the lack of the cat's familiar weight across her legs or the warmth of a familiar presence at her side. Lying alone and chilled, the fire having long gone out, she finally gave up and climbed out of bed. Pulling on her clothes and grabbing her sheathed bade - the old one that didn't turn her into a beacon of wizardly lightning - she shuffled out the door and down to the lower courtyard through the silent castle.

Standing in the dark of the early mornings in the sawdust of the sparring ring, she moved through each one of the forms until her back was aching and the nausea was gone. Imagining the training dummy was by turns Gallus, Corypheus, or something from her nightmares, Melori fell into the depths of the movements, watching the things that frightened her from a distance, understanding the shape and weight of them without connecting herself to the fear of the thing. There were so many, small and large, but only a few that really mattered: losing someone else she valued, losing her place in Skyhold, losing Cullen ...

Her grip faltered on the blade and she struck the dummy at the wrong angle, sending herself staggering to the side, cursing beneath her breath. It was the one thing she wasn't ready to face, but it was inevitable, wasn't it? They'd not spoken since that day in his tower, and she had not slept since. Every day she went to her study and worked through whatever Leliana gave her to do. Every night she spent going over and over her Harrowing, the expedition to Tevinter, the escape in the Korcari Wilds, her decisions since joining the Inquisition, and everything she'd done with Revas ... trying to find the thread where her decisions might have been her own, untainted by the spirit following her around.

Melori found no help for herself. No hope that he would see her as anything more than a fool. As Varric had said, Cullen did not do anything lightly, and Melori's actions had already cost her more dearly than she could count. It seemed fitting that she would lose the him, as well. She felt cut adrift, without oars or rudder or wind for her sails, and the longer they were apart, the more she realized that he had become integral to whatever it was that kept her going forward.

The light was lifting as the sun rose behind the mountains, the sky shading brighter by degrees. Melori slid the blade back into its sheath and climbed over the fence, dropping into the grass on the other side. Her head felt cloudy with exhaustion. Lowering her head, she turned in a circle, trying to think what to do. Should she stay and hope to hide away in her office, doing whatever she was told? Hadn't hiding got her into this? She longed, sudden and deeply, that Caro were here to tell her what to do.

Little bolts of electricity were racing across her skin, and she closed her eyes, willing the power into her core. She needed to get away, to go somewhere quiet and lonely for a space.

* * *

"Are you certain about this?" Dorian asked, watching Melori and one of the stable boys load her gear. There was more than usual, this time. Books, bags, her armor and blades, and everything else she would need to live. Leliana had agreed to store the things she could not take with her.

"I am certain," she answered, looking over her shoulder at him. "Would you stay under the same circumstances?"

He sighed and shook his head, "You're acting too hastily. What if you misread him?"

"I won't be gone forever."

"You're behaving as though you will be," He muttered, frowning through his moustache. "And who will I study with while you're away? That awful creature running the other side of the upstairs library?"

"I'm only going to Crestwood," she said, giving him a look. "There's a lot of lore there, you know. An elven cavern where the wyverns used to breed, underwater dwarven ruins ... all sorts of things. You can visit me there."

"But ..."

"Dorian," Melori turned and looked up at him, her hands on her hips, "I have to go."

"You're not coming back," He insisted, grabbing her by the shoulders. "I know that expression. I used to see it in the mirror every morning until I finally left home to come to the barbaric south. You can't leave me, Melori! You were my little bit of civilization in a strange world!"

"Lady Vivienne will have to suffice, I'm afraid," Melori smiled, reaching out to hug him. She kissed his cheek and stepped back, wishing she felt brave enough to stay. "For what it's worth, you've been as good a friend to me as Caro was, and ... that's the highest praise I can give anyone. I'll miss you."

"Write me," he insisted. "I don't care if you're fighting off dragons with a toothpick, write me every day or I will come to Crestwood and bring you back here by force."

"I promise," she answered, reaching up to swing herself into the saddle. Until she was out of the castle, she could not cry, she told herself, urging Tempest into a trot and through the courtyard, trying not to see anything or to look at what she was leaving behind. She made it through the gate and down the causeway before the tears began.

* * *

The tavern along the road near Haven had become a staging ground for Inquisition troops, and Melori followed the road till she came to it, sliding down off of Tempest's back and handing the reins to one of the soldiers who ran out to greet her. He smiled and gave her a crisp salute before leading Tempest over to the stables, which had Melori blinking after him for a moment - she'd never been saluted before in her life.

"Melori Enara!" Captain Jamesin, the man in charge of Haven's troops, exclaimed when she'd entered the tavern proper. He came forward with a smile that bristled his ginger moustache. "We received the Nightingale's communiqué that you would arriving soon. I hope you made good time with the new recruits?"

"The way was much shorter than the last time I traveled between Haven and Skyhold," she answered, smiling a little when he laughed. "They were all quite well behaved."

"Glad to hear it," he chuckled. "How can we help you?"

"Well, I'm to join the next group to go to Crestwood, though I know they won't arrive for another two days," she explained. "IN the meantime, I thought I would try to get into the Temple Archive before I moved on. I was working there when the Breach opened, and I'd like to retrieve some of my equipment and anything that survived intact."

"That could be arranged," he nodded. "I know they've managed to clear a lot of the debris from the tunnels up that way, so I'm sure we can get you in and out without any trouble. If you're willing to go in the morning, I'll arrange a group to go with you."

"I'd appreciate that, Captain."

.

* * *

.

NEXT: _Don't panic. Or do. But I'd recommend not. Panicking, that is. :-D_


	50. Chapter 50

_A riddle is a tale so familiar you no longer see it; it's simply there,  
like the air you breathe, the ancient names of Kings echoing in  
the corners of your house, the sunlight in the corner of your eye;  
until one day you look at it and something shapeless, voiceless  
in you opens a third eye and sees it as you have never seen it before.  
Then you are left with the knowledge of the nameless question in you,  
and the tale that is no longer meaningless but the one thing in  
the world that has meaning any more. ~ _Patricia A. McKillip

.

* * *

Ghosts followed her as she walked along the cleared path past the remnants of Haven and the broken buildings beneath the snow and rubble. Burnt and jagged pieces of buildings and equipment thrust through the crust of debris, ice, and rock like ragged tombstones, and her mind kept going back to the early days when she'd first staggered through the gate with Caro and the others, frightened and uncertain. She remembered the first day on the lists, so afraid that Cullen would hear her name and denounce her as an apostate, or practicing staves with Caro while half hung-over, waking up among the books and reports on Cullen's bed, the first time Hugh kissed her, and the night Haven burned.

Melori shut her eyes, pausing on the path and trying to catch her breath. Missing them with such violence that she couldn't move or do anything but fight the tears away. Why had this seemed like a good idea? She should have traveled straight on to Crestwood and not bothered to stop. Dragging in another a breath, she wiped at her eyes, too embarrassed to look at the others who had paused on the road.

"Are you all right?" Sister Raelyn asked, a gentle hand finding Melori's arm. Of the three scholars making the climb to the Archive, Raelyn was the steadiest and hadn't seemed to question the idea that an elven apostate had once worked as a chantry scholar. Melori had liked the quiet woman immediately, recognizing a twin soul in their love of books and knowledge, and it was doubly embarrassing now to be caught weeping at something the others probably saw every day.

"I'm … this was home for a while," Melori managed, searching for a handkerchief. "Just … haven't been here since the dragon."

Raelyn nodded. "I think all of us have had to stop a few times for the same reason."

"It can't be easy for anyone," Melori agreed, managing a watery smile as she wiped at her eyes. The farther from the village they traveled, the easier it was to breathe through her nose again, the pain lingering but not overwhelming – like an old injury aching in the cold. Not having slept well the night before – and many other nights before that – Melori and still had that faint, sick feeling in her bones, as though she could just lie down in the snow and sleep for a while. Fortunately, the fresh air seemed to help.

The wind was very cold, bending the evergreens along the mountainside as they climbed the ridge until the path split. They continued to the left toward Melori's previous lodging - the Archive, bypassing the right hand path down to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. The soldiers led them along the abandoned walkway and up to the entrance where the doors were propped open and they all quickly made their way inside to get out of the chill.

"We'll be out here till the afternoon then come in to help gather up whatever you've found and take it down to the Captain. He'll make sure everything's ready to go with you to Crestwood or be sent up to Skyhold," one of the soldiers told her, saluting properly and Melori thought he looked remarkably young. The previous evening, the Captain had explained that most of the men near Haven were mostly new recruits on their first real assignment. Melori hesitated briefly then saluted him back and he smiled. "If you need us for anythin', just yell. Not that there's much'll be botherin' you round here."

"That's good to know," she answered, following the other women through the door into the torch-lit halls beyond the doorway.

* * *

The soldiers who had initially broken back into the Archive had done so not to rescue the precious materials there, but to retrieve the dead. While there were yet gruesome remnants of those first horrible weeks after the Breach appeared evident throughout the corridors, it was less distressing than it might have been. The demons were gone, of course, their bodies having disintegrated when the Breach closed, but there was a smell in the air that turned Melori's stomach and she pressed a hand over her nose, the Fade stench almost too strong in spots.

"This might help," Raelyn said, offering Melori a sprig of embrium. "If you chew one of the buds, it will soothe the nausea from the stink."

Melori nodded, taking the small twig and breaking off the tiny pink bud on one end before popping it into her mouth. It tasted a little like eating grass, but with a warm, rosy flavor that bloomed as soon as she hit the middle of the bud. Within in a few minutes she felt immensely improved and a little more alert. "Thank you. That's much better."

"Mm hmm," the chantry sister smiled, watching her closely. "I've more if you find you need them."

"I guess everyone else is used to it, having been here longer," Melori sighed, looking around the long empty hallway. "I'll be down in the lower archive to see if anything I left behind is still intact in the main library. If you need me, I seem to recall this place echoes when empty. So just yell."

"You were here when it was empty?"

"A long time ago when Brother Genitivi was first studying the Temple," Melori laughed. "I was fresh out of the Circle Tower, then, and served as his assistant. Well, one of them. It's been a long time now."

"We hear stories, you know. Anyone who goes up to Skyhold comes back with tales of the people there," Raelyn chuckled, ducking a broken beam as they made their way further into the Archive. "I heard from one of the boys that there was an elven woman at Adamant, throwing lightning and calling down fire. I was thinking that might be you, considering the hair."

"Ah, perhaps it was. There aren't many mages with combat training," Melori admitted, "and I had only the rudiments when I joined the Inquisition." She paused and offered a hand to the sister, who was struggling to climb over a piece of broken furniture in her long robe. "I prefer books, honestly."

"They are usually safer!" Raelyn laughed, straightening her robes.

"Indeed," Melori answered as they came up to a large set of double doors, one of them completely knocked off its hinges and lying flat to the floor. "This is the upper library. I … suspect a Pride Demon likely did that. One was in the halls with us while we were hiding."

"Andraste watch over us," Raelyn exclaimed, staring down at the claw marks that scored the wood from top to bottom, deep and jagged. "I'll see what's left inside, I suppose."

"Good luck," Melori answered, patting the sister's shoulder before heading down the corridor to where the tall windows still stood, only partly blocked by snow. In the distance, she could make out the remnants of the Temple of Andraste , towers and ruined walls black and broken against the sky – so different from what she remembered. Down the stairs and around the corner, Melori found the cold, lonely remains of the main library.

Setting her bag down on the tiles, she summoned a globe of energy to give her light and turned in a slow circle, studying the space with a narrowed eye. It was dusty, of course, and some of the tables were broken, but very little had been disturbed. It all looked as though everyone had simply gone to lunch and forgotten to return.

* * *

The compilation lay where she'd left it, opened to the half-finished cover page, ornate lettering staring up at her still crisp against the creamy vellum: "_The Urn of Sacred Ashes: The Collected Works of Brother Ferdinand Genitivi_." Smiling, Melori took a seat on the stool at her desk and looked around. There were brushes and old, dried out ink bottles, pens with their nibs still sharp, tools for paper etching, liquid gold for illumination, rulers, soft cloths now heavy with dust, and her old tea cup still sitting undisturbed on the edge of the desk. In a box inside a drawer she found some of her rarer instruments and a necklace her mother had given her made of halla horn and tightly twined metal wire.

Carefully, Melori packed the _Compilation_ in clean paper, wrapped it again in vellum, and then in thick leather before placing the book in a strapped box for travelling. It still required stitching along the spine once the illuminations were complete, and she did not want it damaged on the journey to Crestwood, where she would finish it. Packing all her tools into her bags, she realized that she missed the little nook and the broad, expansive library beyond, but she did not the life it represented. It was so pale and thin compared to what she had with the Inquisition. It was too ... safe, too tame. And it had none of her friends nor Cullen in it.

"You could still go back," Melori said to herself after dragging her other bags out to the hallway to await the soldiers and returning to her nook to take one last look around. "I could just… stay in the study. Never see anyone …"

Almost she missed it, but only almost. There, on the back of one of the shelves where it had been accidentally pushed at some point, was a little black painted wooden carving of a wolf, his head lifted as though howling to the stars. The little painted eyes nearly worn away and the tail blunted from the constant pressure of fat little fingers clutching it tightly day after day. Breath hitching, Melori felt her eyes welling as she retrieved it, turning the little thing between her adult fingers, memories catching her off-guard.

She remembered clutching her father's shoulder as he carried her through the forest, her mother a step behind him. They'd not said much, smiling at her questions and answering as best they could. Her father had seemed to shake sometimes when she asked where they were going, which was odd as he was always so proud and calm, always patiently answering her questions. Her mother would occasionally reach up a hand to tug at a wild red curl. They'd been so sad and she'd been too young to realize it.

Somewhere around midday they'd broken through the trees into a small village, and, even so many years later, she could remember how it stank of livestock and wood smoke. How the humans stared as her parents carried her down the street and up to the front door of the Chantry where men with sharp eyes and strange armor watched them approach. She'd clutched her father's neck and hid her face. Her father's words had been hard and sharp, his fingers clutched tight around her waist. Her mother stood behind him, lips tight, tears standing in her eyes, and Melori remembered wanting to cry, too, but knowing she was too old for such things, especially in front of the _shem_.

One of the men went into the building and her father stepped away and knelt to the ground, setting her on her feet in front of him. "You must do as I say," she remembered his words so clearly. "I know you don't understand, but you are going to a good place, _da'vhenan_. They will teach you many things."

"_Babae_" She'd said, feeling so very serious, watching his face shift with sorrow, tears appearing in his eyes. "_Babae, din'numin."- _Pleading with him not to cry, and then crying herself when he could not keep the tears away. She'd never seen her father cry. "_Din'numin."_

"_Nadas'numin_," her mother had said, kissing her forehead and pulling her close. "_Ma emma lath, Melori_."

More had been said, she was certain, but all she remembered now was the large, armored man picking her up off the ground, not un-gently, and her father giving her the look he had that always hushed her instantly. She lifted her chin and he'd smiled, proud of her even as she's hiccoughed and wiped at her eyes.

"I made this for you," he said, showing her the little wolf carving. "_Fen'harel _asks a high price of us, but he turns away the darkness from our camps. Be clever as a wolf,_ emm'asha_."

"_Babae? Mamae?" _Panic set in as they walked away, disserting pride for fear as she called after them. The Templar somehow managed to keep hold of the squirming, screaming elven child without hurting her, though he did not let her go. She remembered a big, metal-shod hand petting her hair while he carried her into the Chantry as she sobbed, inconsolable for what seemed like days and days. For years after, she would wake every morning hoping to find her father had come to fetch her and found the little wolf figure instead.

* * *

The soldiers came for her bags and Melori slipped the figurine into her pocket, a little shocked at how vividly she remembered everything. Her early days in the Circle tower were not her fondest memories, though she did recall how kind Irving had been. For two years or more, she'd believed that father would take her back to the aravels and the forests. Somewhere around the age of seven or eight, she'd come to understand that she was truly alone and that her magic was the reason why.

Lips firming, Melori put the memories aside and gathered her pack, her staff, and her sword before walking out of the main library and up to her old bedroom. They'd stay in the Archive through the night and finish their work in the morning. The light through the tall, narrow windows in the hall was dimming as night fell, and she was bone tired. Spreading her bedroll over the slightly mouse-eaten quilt on her old bed, Melori ate a few rations and dressed for bed. She cast her warming spell and stretched out across the old mattress, dropping into dreams so deep and dark that hours later she couldn't remember if she'd even dreamt at all.

Raelyn had another Embrium bud for her when Melori appeared in the old dining hall for breakfast. The room was far cleaner than it had been the day before, though it still smelled awful to Melori. No one else seemed to notice, but she had a little trouble eating the porridge they passed around. There were new soldiers, replacements for the others, and the scholars greeted them happily. She ate as quickly as she could, and headed back out into the corridor. The faster she got through the main library, the faster she would finish and could decide whether to return to Skyhold or move on to Crestwood.

Halfway down the hall to the main library, one of the soldiers caught up with her, a letter in his hand. "A raven flew in this morning and this was addressed to you."

"Oh, thank you." Melori took the letter, and stepped over to one of the windows, leaning against the stone while she broke the seal and unrolled the parchment. Her stomach twisted when she saw the sharp, black handwriting there, and she almost folded it up for later, unable to continue, but she'd never been good at resisting literary temptations.

.

_Melori,_

_You've gone. Somehow in the chaos, I thought you nearby, but a certain furious Tevinter insists otherwise. I searched for you in your study, in your room, in the library, but you were not there. I found the Nightingale, instead, and she informs me that you are heading to Crestwod by way of Haven and suggests I might be able to waylay you, if I ride fast enough. _

_She has called me every kind of fool and insists that I hid behind my duties rather than do what was best, and I must admit, she is correct. In my moment of anger and personal hurt, in the midst of my fear for your safety, I lost sight of who you are and why you would have wished to keep such a secret, given who I once was. I was intent on my own feelings and neglected to consider yours - Maker knows, it is a failing that has nearly ruined my life in the past. I hope that it is not too late to remedy my mistake and beg that you will forgive me. _

_Expect me on the morrow, somewhere toward evening, likely with Pavus and his shadow in tow. They have insisted and I am in no mood to dissuade them. _

_I have things I must say to you. Things I ought to have said long before now._

_Yours always,  
C.R._

_P.S. Pavus insists I add that he will resort to violence if you do not remain where you are. _

_._

The parchment cracked in her fingers as she read the letter again and then again, a curious sense of relief and happiness creeping up through her center, almost overwhelming in strength. He was riding toward Haven, she thought, a little dazedly, leaning with her back to the windows, her head tilted against the wall between them, her mind full of the memory of his touch and his voice.

When the world outside the windows flashed green, she almost didn't notice until the building shook beneath the explosion of sound and pressure, and she staggered halfway across the hall, turning to stare in horror as the Breach ripped open once more above the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

* * *

.

NOTE: _You can panic now. :-D_


	51. Chapter 51

_Today I'm a king on the Wheel  
Still a slave to the Wheel  
But this time around I'm smiling  
Keep me cautious, keep me safe,  
just in case there's a chance  
I can leave this Wheel behind me.  
Stand in the Middle and you won't get dizzy  
Stand in the Middle and you won't fall down  
If you stand in the Middle you can keep your balance  
Stand in the Middle while the Wheel spins round and round...  
_~Splashdown, _Karma Slave  
_.

* * *

Melori stared upward as the Breach swirled and shuddered. It was spitting out trails of green light and smoke that impacted against the mountains and the ground below. The vibrations of the magic in the air spurred her to move, running down the hall until she came to the upper library, and turned down the corridor toward the dining hall. It was so deep into the mountain that they all likely thought it had been an avalanche, common in that area. When Melori slammed into the room, breathing hard, they all looked up in alarm.

"The Breach is reopened," she said as crisply and clearly as she could. "Corypheus is at the Temple ruin. Get your things, get food and water, and meet in the hall." Her eyes shifted to the soldier standing in shock to the side of the room, and she remembered the way Cullen and Bull would shout orders, brooking no argument. Her voice hardened and she pointed to the man she'd identified as a lieutenant. "Keep the sisters alive. Go! Now!"

When she saw them moving, doing as she'd ordered, Melori ran back down the hall. Her hands were shaking and she wanted to pause, to be sick in a corner or to crouch in a corner until the nightmare ended. Surely she was asleep? But Cullen's letter crinkled against her skin where she'd thrust it into her bodice, and its presence was the one thing Melori did not want to deny. Whatever was going to happen now, she had to survive long enough to return to him, to hear the things he should have said long ago.

Dashing into her room, she threw her bag onto the bed and fumbled at the straps, pulling out the midnight blue armor. It took her a few minutes to toss off her clothes and pull everything on and her fingers kept snagging at buckles, making her curse. Her fingers felt fat and fumbling, and her heart was pounding loudly in her chest. For a moment, she swayed unable to move or think, but a few deep breaths and she was able to quell the panic and think clearly - forced herself to think clearly.

Grabbing her weapons in one hand she ran out again, finding a horde of confused faces in the hallway. The sisters were clutching their packs and bags of hastily assembled food and water. They all looked terrified, their faces pale and eyes wide and staring. A few of them were crying.

"What's going on?" Raelyn called out when Melori appeared, eyes widening at the sight of the elven armor and the weaponry.

"The Breach is tossing out demons again," Melori explained, trying to latch the side of her breast piece with one hand. "Considering what happened last time, they'll head to where people are. There's a vault where the older artifacts are stored that has enough space. Anyone who cannot fight will go there and stay there till the all clear is called."

"But ... what about you?" The scholar persisted, her hands on her hips. "You're not going out there to fight the demons?"

"Yes, I am," Melori answered, flashing the other woman a sharp smile. "Go on. Put the bar across the door and wait for the sound of friendly voices. Believe me, I've done this before."

"Enara," Raelyn came closer, brows furrowed. "You're already exhausted. What do you think you can do that the soldiers cannot?"

That got a laugh and Melori felt her confidence returning, her eyes gleaming as she said, "Tthe main thing is that I can help keep all of us a live for a little bit longer. That should be enough, right?"

* * *

The soldiers and Melori ran to the Archive entrance and took stock of what they could see. It wasn't clear if more rifts had opened, or If the creatures were coming from the Breach itself this time, but there were demons in the hills and they could see them, here and there, climbing the mountainside. The sound of the Breach was louder than she remembered, straining against both her magical and physical senses, but she could hear the tell-tale sounds of the demons nearby above the roar.

"My Lady," the Lieutenant said sharply, saluting when she turned to look at him rather than the Breach. "What should we do?"

"Secure the doors to the Archive, then we find a good point and hold it against anything that comes our way," she answered, wondering what on earth possessed the man to trust an elven mage, of all people. Not that she intended to question it. "The scouts will arrive first then whoever the Inquisitor can muster from Skyhold will be next. I'm afraid most of the army is still traveling back through the Arbor Wilds, so our job is going to be to survive till help comes. Only the Inquisitor can defeat Corypheus or close the Breach."

"All right then," he nodded and turned to the soldiers behind him. "Listen up, you lot. We've got one task now, and that's to keep the way safe for the Inquisitor. Lady Enara was at Adamant and the Wilds. She's fought darkspawn, red templars, and demons. If she says to duck, bloody well do it, for Andraste's sake."

"Ah… thank you, Lieutenant," Melori said, blinking at him. "I had no idea anyone had been keeping track."

"The name's Greer. And you might be surprised at how much we know. You saved the Commander's life in the Wilds," he answered. "We heard it from some of the scouts passing through, and none of us are like to forget that. We've got your back whatever happens."

"Then I pray I don't get you all killed," she replied grimly. "First, let's gather whatever we need from the Archive. After that, we look for a choke point and hold it. Know any place like that, Lieutenant Greer?"

"I do," he nodded sharply.

"Good," She smiled. "Then we should hurry to it. We've not got much time to get ourselves into position."

* * *

Her sword ripped through a despair demon, lightning flaring as she turned and threw a fistful of energy into the face of a terror demon even as it sent her flying backward into a snow bank. One of the soldiers caught the thing with his blade, and Melori climbed to her feet, dodging sideways as a bolt of green fire erupted in the air near her head. Blood was caked on her forehead and in her hair, her armor was stained with demon ichor, and everything hurt, but they'd been fighting for hours now and the small group was doing well.

They'd made it to a narrow point just above the Temple and had managed to hold onto it despite the demons surging forward in ever greater numbers. Her magic had proved the key to keeping the small group of men and women alive, and she'd spent the last few hours hording the power she had, resting whenever she could in order to keep fighting. The small healing ward had helped a great deal, but they'd lost four soldiers already and couldn't afford to lose anymore.

Lightning struck the ground at several points, stirred up by her casting, and wisps along the periphery died. Melori wasn't sure how long they could keep this up, not with the Breach Spitting monsters out at every turn. They'd managed to take down a Pride Demon earlier, which had worn everyone to the bone. Greer had a concussion, but a healing potion had kept him on his feet. She feared what would happen if he fell or if something worse came at them.

"Take a moment," he said as Melori made her back to the hastily erected barrier they'd built with roadway debris. "We've got anything smaller for now."

"Do we have time to rest?" She asked, leaning against one of the boulders at the side of the path and taking a drink out of the flask he handed her. Fortunately, it was snow melt and not liquor.

"For the moment," he chuckled, shaking his head. "If we didn't have you with us ..."

"You'd just be working harder," she answered. "I only speed things up a bit."

"Is that all? Could have sworn I saw a demon's claw bounce off Geoff's chest a minute ago, doing no damage whatever."

"It's all that marvelous armor he's wearing," Melori said drily, looking up at the sky. "We should be seeing scouts soon. It's been long enough, hasn't it?"

"It has," he agreed. "But we can't know what they've encountered on the road."

"Fight and fight some more, then." she stood and stretched, her breath hitching a little as the bruises pulled. She reached down for her staff and blade, and felt a weird glare of power in the direction of the Temple and froze, eyes widening in alarm. One of the soldiers shouted and those who had been on the road came running back, faces white and terrified as they skidded to a halt across the icy terrain.

"Something big's coming," the woman gasped, her hands white knuckled around the polearm she carried. "I've never seen anything like it."

"How far?" Greer barked, leaping to his feet and grabbing his blade and shield.

"It shot out of the Breach and landed near the Temple. Not too far."

Melori felt the hair on the back of her neck rising, terror rolling through her in a wave, for a moment the world narrowed to a single point and she wanted to curl up into a ball and hide. It took everything she had not to take off for the Archive to hide with the Sisters. Her eyes narrowed and she said, sharply. "Fear demon, and not one of those spindly things you see most often. I can ... it feels wrong."

"We can't take something like that," Greer gasped, staring at her in horror.

"We have to," she snapped, turning on them and glaring. "If we want to survive this, we _have_ to. And if we don't, we don't. If we're going to die today, at least make them _work for it_." She heard herself echoing Cullen from the battle at Haven and swallowed, hard. He would hold his ground, as Hawke and Hugh and so many others had. She could do no less, give no less. "I haven't given in to the demons inside the Fade and I won't give in to them outside it either. Remember, whatever you see or feel, it's a demon and it will end if the demon _dies._"

* * *

It rose like a tide that broke and swamped the soldiers and Melori, gray skinned and angular, it's skeletal fingers stretching toward them as it laughed and hissed. The thing was tall and narrow, covered in what looked like slimy gray plates of bone, and it had eight arms like a spider. It seemed to break as it moved, it's bones coming unhinged and then re-knitting as it jerked and cackled, a miasma swarming out of its mouth and slipping through the air in a noxious cloud. The world around it seemed to darken, and ... _things_ ... scuttled out of view and crawled across the skin ...

Two of the eight remaining soldiers shrieked and fled, scrabbling over rock and ice to fling themselves behind the barrier, but the rest stood strong, either paralyzed with fear or too stupidly brave to run. Greer forced himself forward until he could go no further, his face white and strained, a gray tinge to his lips. None of them were prepared for this.

Visions of death and abandonment crept over Melori and her sword hand shook. She felt the staff fall from numb fingers to strike the ice and snow, rolling down the hill and out of reach before she was able to jerk herself together and grip the hilt of her sword more tightly. In a low voice, she began to remind herself why she was there, why she was fighting, and moved forward, one foot in front of the other. Thinking of Cullen and the Inquisition brought the Chant of Light to mind, and she began to repeat it out loud, the verses she most often heard Cassandra sometimes praying as she sparred.

_Maker, my enemies are abundant.  
Many are those who rise up against me.  
But my faith sustains me; I shall not fear the legion,  
Should they set themselves against me. **  
_

And heard the verses taken up by the others in voices trembling and hoarse, and soon she was silent as the soldiers spoke. It gave her the energy to attack and she drew on her wards and threw herself forward, swinging at one of the creature's arms and dodging as it tried to hit her. Her boots skidded across the snow and ice, sending up mud and debris and she nearly fell, gasping as she saw other creatures seeming to crawl out of the snow at her feet. Even knowing that it wasn't real, she was almost unable to ignore them or the feeling of sick dread in her stomach.

The demon laughed, the hissing sound snapping her into the present, and Melori folded the Fade to appear behind the it. She struck before it could move, the storm runes on the blade sending lightning arcing and spitting in all directions. Large, bony hands grasped at her, caught her and she fade-stepped again, falling to one knee and spinning, blocking with the blade and throwing out a hand to summon a veil of fire. The demon screamed and she shuddered, visions of deep water overwhelming her as she sank beneath a wave. Something huge loomed beneath her in the dark, and she found herself vulnerable, small and lost in the volume.

_Maker, though the darkness comes upon me,  
I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm.  
I shall endure.  
What you have created, no one can tear asunder. **  
_

Bony hands closed over her and lifted, her feet dangling far from the roadway as it laughed, shaking her viciously before throwing her to the side. Melori gasped and rolled, skidding across sharp ice and stones. The soldiers were still quoting their verses, though she heard their voices trembling as the demon neared them. They could not defend themselves, not yet. Gritting her teeth, she summoned all her energy and lifted her blade, throwing her arms wide as her magic erupted in a wave of power. Storm energy slammed into the back of the demon and threw it sideways into the nearby boulders.

_Though all before me is shadow,  
Yet shall the Maker be my guide.  
I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond.  
For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light  
And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost. **  
_

Melori fell onto it with her blade, muttering her own verses and wishing Elgar'nan's wrath upon it as the thing swept sideways and caught her across the face with a fist. She reeled backward, dazed, and felt claws catch her shoulder and back, ripping through leather and skin where her mail did not cover. The Silverite held, but she felt blood sliding, hot and wet, down her back. It hurt to move, and she found herself struck again, tossed like a rag doll to the edge of the steep hill where her staff had already gone over, clawing at the rocks to find purchase, to keep herself from going over the side. Below her, the boulder strewn ravine loomed, and she screamed.

She heard Greer then as he shouted and came charging forward with the soldiers who were still able to move. The demon rolled to face them, but they were already on it, hacking and carving at the creature while Melori climbed to her feet, her left arm hanging limp at her side and her ears ringing oddly. Her magic was nearly gone, but she still had her blade, so she waded in behind them, hacking against nightmare, against terror.

The deep water was gone, replaced by visions of Cullen dead, of her friends broken, and the whole of the Fade open and hungry. Melori growled, and stabbed at the monster again and again, and, when it was dead. The fear receded bit by broken bit until her head was clear again, and she stood breathing raggedly above it, swaying on her feet. The soldiers around her were staring at her with wide, frightened eyes.

"What?" She asked, her voice raw.

"You ... your eyes are white," Greer managed, looking as nervous as everyone else. "You're lit up like a Santinela lantern."

"Oh. Is that all?" Melori laughed and moved to wipe her blade on a piece of her cloak before sliding it into the sheath. The power faded, and they all relaxed a little. "Better?"

"You look less like you're about to call a thunder storm down from the sky," the Lietenant admitted. He turned and barked at the soldiers. "Back behind the barrier. NOW."

They jogged back toward the choke point, Melori limping along behind them, her hand grasped tightly to her shoulder. All she wanted to do was lie down and have a bit of rest. Surely the rest of the Inquisition was almost here? They couldn't take much more of this. But then she heard the deep, chuckling laughter of Pride as it lumbered up behind them, and she gave a heartfelt groan. This was never going to end.

.

* * *

** _Chant of Light - Canticle of Trials_


	52. Chapter 52

_Never laugh at live dragons._  
~J.R.R. Tolkien

.

* * *

Melori turned. Her blade slid from the sheath with a metallic rasp as she faced the massive, lumbering pride demon, taking in the way it moved and the massive shoulders on the thing, and she took a deep breath. Lifting the blade before her in both hands and pushing the last of her magic into her wards, she thought longingly of healing potions and naps. Her shoulder hurt, the pain burning and running down her back every time she moved, and this was undoubtedly going to hurt even more.

The demon roared, spittle flying from its mouth, and then it laughed, the long glowing whip in its fist sparking with deadly promise. Behind her she could hear the soldiers regrouping, Greer shouting out commands as the men and women moved, the sound of several metal blades leaving their sheaths. But without a strong shield to bear the brunt of the attack, they were none of them able to withstand the force of a Pride Demon attack, not with her magic so low and her wards falling.

The whip the demon carried cracked and snapped as it snaked across the ground, and Melori dodged, running to get out of the way. It followed her movement and she heard the cry as the others took advantage and flanked it. Melori stumbled and careened to the ground, rolling as the whip snapped, the heat of it sparking against her skin. It threw off the soldier's attacking it as though they were nothing more than gnats and strode forward, each step shaking the ground. Fear, blunt and angular, shot through her chest and she crawled away, unable to summon anything but the weakest of wards between herself and the demon.

It lifted its arm and she cringed away, watching as it began to descend with a sickened feeling. And then she heard a shout from somewhere to the right and twenty arrows thudded against its head in rapid succession, a few of them sticking into the thick purple and black hide. The creature turned away from Melori and gave an awful roar, charging toward the scouts who had appeared along the top of the boulders edging the roadway. Greer shot past the demon as it moved and grabbed Melori around the waist, dragging her back toward the barrier.

"The Scouts," She squeaked, too relieved to care how she sounded.

"Thank Andraste," he answered, dropping her into the waiting hands of the waiting soldiers before heading back into the attack.

Melori found herself deposited onto a broken piece of stonework and a healing potion thrust into her hand. She drank it down and asked if they'd found any lyrium potions and then drank that, too. The rush of energy was almost too much and her head swam sickeningly for a moment - which was new. She waited a moment before pushing to her feet and found Harding sliding down the side of a boulder, bow in hand, as the demon fell dead several yards away.

"Looks like we got here just in time," the dwarf scout grinned.

"I've never been happier to see anyone in my life," Melori laughed. "We've been at this all day."

"I thought you were at the Archive?"

"Yes, we were, and we've got people hiding in the vault now. They've got food and water, but someone will have to get them when it's safe," Melori answered as Greer walked up and saluted Harding. "Lieutenant Greer and his unit were the ones who secured the area."

"Glad someone did," Harding answered. "We weren't sure what to expect with the Breach reopening like that. But we're not done yet. Ready to go take a look at the Temple?"

"It'll be Corypheus," Melori answered. "Whoever goes after him will find themselves in serious danger. Is the Inquisitor far?"

"They're coming up the trail now," the scout leader confirmed. "With any luck, this will all be over by breakfast tomorrow."

* * *

They left the soldiers from the Archive at the choke point with several archers, scouts, and supplies. Melori and Lieutenant Greer walked along behind Harding toward the Temple further up the road. Melori's magic was recovering, which helped, and she recast her wards, one by one. According to the dwarf, they were going to get as close as they dared and then send in some of the scouts to check the boundaries of the Temple itself.

"You sure you don't want to stay back with the others?" Greer asked, watching her with narrowed eyes. "You look worn out and you're injured."

"It's not that bad and I want to see this through to the end," Melori answered, rotating her left arm slowly. The wound burned and stung, but the bleeding was done and she could move it again.

"If you say so," he sighed as they came up to the first gate, the final staging area where Inquisition forces had held back the demons the first time the Breach had opened. The closer they came to the Temple, the more magic Melori could feel in the air; the twisting energy of the Breach and the strange, metallic scent of red lyrium - like blood and lightning.

From the temple came the sound of a voice, deep and carrying, though she couldn't make out what it said, and Melori turned, the hair on the back of her neck lifting. Towers and masonry were beginning to lift off the ground, floating in midair and she broke into a run, only to skid to a halt at the sight of the twisted darkspawn magister standing in the midst of the ruined slag. Scarlet light flooded from the orb hovering over his hand, spitting and surged with contaminated energy.

Terror at the sight of his scarred and ravaged face freezing her where she stood. He looked part demon, part red templar, and the power that rolled off of him was sickening.

" Call down his wrath upon me. You cannot, for he does not exist." He spoke in growling tones to the scouts on her left who were climbing unsteadily to their feet in front of him. "I am Corypheus. _I _shall deliver you from this lie in which you linger." He lifted his arms and the sphere rose above his head, and Melori felt herself backing away. "Bow before your new god and be spared." **

"Never!" One of the scouts cried out in defiance and the darkspawn magister tilted his head with an expression on his face that chilled her to the bone. She knew what power the creature wielded with the orb he held, she could _feel_ it pulsing off of him in waves, and there was nothing she could do to warn them. No ward she cast would be enough against that kind of power.

"As you wish," he muttered and brought his hands down.

Energy rolled forward in a red-tinged wave and threw them backward against the stones. Melori rolled backward across the broken, blackened rocks, coming to a halt some distance away. Her ears were ringing and it took her a moment to orient herself, vaguely aware of a familiar voice shouting nearby. The ground began to shake beneath her feet as she tried to rise, and the world beyond dropped suddenly away as tons of rock and the remnants of the Temple of Sacred Ashes rose slowly into the sky.

* * *

Disoriented and off-balance, Melori climbed to her feet, hands spread to either side as everything seemed to sway. She could see the Inquisitor and the others standing before Corypheus some distance away. A shadow, huge and dark moved behind Corypheus to her right, and Melori pivoted, opening her mouth to scream a warning. The thing hissed and leaned forward, leaping at the Inquisitor and something just as large hit it hard in the side, sending both tumbling and sliding across the broken landscape toward her.

Melori leapt to the side and found herself caught by a wing, pushed down and over the ledge of rock and masonry. Her shoulder protested as she hung there, feet kicking for purchase as she tried to lever herself back up. She could hear the dragons screaming as they rolled through the sky and swallowed hard.

She screamed as her gloved hand slipped, and she dangled for what seemed an eternity over the snow and ice covered rock far below. It took all her strength to swing herself to the side grabbing tight with her other hand, her foot finally finding a foothold in the rocky ledge. For several agonizing minutes she made her way along, grip by grip, until she was able to find a place wide enough to climb upward.

Gasping with effort, sweat sliding down her forehead, she pulled herself along the rock face, crying out in fear and exhaustion as she managed to lift herself up and over the ledge. For a several long minutes, she lay on the ground, gasping for breath and her entire body trembling in reaction. Her entire body felt numb and limp, but she forced herself to focus, to pull her nerves together, bit by bit.

"I do not like heights," she muttered to herself when she finally had the strength to waver to her feet.

Running was out of the question. Her body was still shaking too hard, but Melori pushed herself forward, heading across the inhospitable terrain to where she'd last seen the Inquisitor. When she found no one there, she began to climb upward, following the sound of battle and the feeling of magic. Solas was nearby, she knew, feeling the power of his spells on the air, twined with Dorian's and Vivienne's somewhere up above her. She followed the sensations she felt, climbing across stones that were breaking apart even as she climbed over the, her heart in her throat.

"Too slow, too slow," she gasped, then jerked herself against a stone wall as the dragons tumbled past.

Heart pounding in her chest, Melori climbed another stairway and saw Bull's horns across a broad expanse of rock and cobblestones. The others were near him, all of them staring upward. Corypheus was nowhere in sight, though she could sense him somewhere above them on a higher platform. A part of her wanted to just sit down for a moment, take a breath of air, but she found herself looking upward, too, despite herself.

The second dragon, a purple scaled creature with thick horns folded against the back of its head was flying toward the Breach, broad wings flaring as it pushed itself higher and higher. The red lyrium dragon flew not far behind it, shrieking as it rose into the air. For a brief moment, the second dragon paused at the apex of its flight, and then it fell, grappling the other with vicious, suicidal intent. Melori pressed her hand against her mouth, eyes going wide as the creatures plummeted end over end until they crashed and slid across the cobbles not a hundred yards away.

The one who fell nearest her shuddered on the ground for a brief moment and then dissolved in a flash of light that resolved itself into a familiar shape. Morrigan struggled to rise, coughing up blood before falling once more. Melori ran forward, dropping to one knee beside her and fumbling to lift her up with shaking hands as the other dragon shifted, injured but doubly dangerous when in pain.

"Leave me be," the witch complained, trying to push the helping hands away.

"You'll be crushed if you don't move," Melori exclaimed, tugging Morrigan to her feet and slinging the other mage's arm over her shoulders. She heard Dorian shout as the others closed on the dragon, and half-carried Morrigan a safe distance away before she propped the human against a wall and leaned over her. Summoning the small healing magics she knew, Melori held her shaking hands over Morrigan's body. After a moment, the witch opened her eyes and brushed the elf's hands away.

"I thank you," the witch said softly. "But I daresay you should be aiding the Inquisitor right now."

"Once I get you somewhere safe, I'll try," Melori promised, but Morrigan shook her head, smiling crookedly.

"That is quite kind of you, but I will be quite well enough in short order. Go. Make sure they get it done this time."

* * *

The dragon died as Melori crept up the stairs toward the place w here Corypheus stood. Hiding behind the broken stone wall, Melori held her breath as the dragon's dying energy swarmed around him. She had a clear view of the magister, his fury evident even as he sent the orb flying above him to shed its light across the ruins and arcing up to the Breach above them. Melori stared with horror as the green expanse grew, boiling green bolts of light smashing down around them.

"Let it end here. Let the skies boil. Let the world be rent asunder." **

A huge mass of Fade energy crashed into the tower nearest her and she ducked flying rock and debris, gasping as another sparking green explosion crashed into the stair behind her, sending the remnants of the structure into the mountains far below. The entire ruin rocked and she found herself holding tight to the stone, her breath coming in sharp gasps as her feet swung out over the empty space.

"Mythal help me," she prayed reflexively, then laughed, half-hysterical when she remembered just who that meant. The tower sagged further to one side and she felt herself slipping, sliding down the tilting expanse. It came to an abrupt halt when it cracked into the tower opposite, and carefully, slowly, she climbed across the broken stone until she could leap from that to a half-ruined tower that had not yet fallen, trying to resist the urge to shut her eyes.

The Inquisitor came up another stair case opposite the one Melori had taken, leaping across a crevasse in the ruined pavement, the others hot on her heels. It was difficult to hear them with the Breach roaring overhead, spitting out green energy that seemed intent on ripping everything to pieces, bit by bit. Another flash to her right sent the tower she was on falling forward, and Melori saw her chance, throwing herself forward and onto the stairs, nearly landing on Bull before rolling inelegantly down the steps with a groan.

"Ribbons?" Large hands set her on her feet, and she swayed, blinking at him owlishly. "You okay?"

"I meant to do that," she told him, forcing her back straight. It hurt, but ... everything hurt at this point. "I thought I should at least show up for the last party."

"Right," he answered, his brow lifting. "Come on."

Pulling her sword free of its sheath, Melori followed him into the mass of magic and blades, using her own to summon her wards, casting every protection she could manage onto the Inquisitor and anyone close to Corypheus. It was all she could do at this point, as tired as she was, but it freed Vivienne to focus on damage and _that_ was something to see.

To the side, red and green fire flared and Melori saw the Inquisitor steal the orb from the Corypheus, summoning it to her mark as though it belonged there, pressed tightly to her palm. The entire thing bled green light now, and the ancient magister gave an agonized, defeated groan, falling to his knees. The woman before him lifted her hand toward the Breach and energy shot upward in a thick line that made Melori's head hurt. The Breach pulled closed with a mighty crack!

Melori looked upward as boulders began to fall from the sky, dodging backward as one struck too close. She heard Solas cry out and saw his outstretched hand, but the ground beneath her cracked and then dissolved. Melori felt herself falling for a space, and thought, _No. Not yet._ There came an impact and the world went utterly dark.

* * *

.

** Game dialog

NOTE: Whatever you think I did, please note, the story is not yet over.


	53. Chapter 53

_Avoid the flourish. Do not be afraid to be weak.  
Do not be ashamed to be tired. You look good  
when you're tired. You look like you could go  
on forever. Now come into my arms. You are  
the image of my beauty_. ~ Leonard Cohen.

.

* * *

"You will _not_ die now," someone said as hands, narrow and colder than the ground she lay on pressed over her heart, consciousness swimming back through layers of pain and exhaustion. "I will not have it, not after everything else this day."

There were stars overhead, swimming through her vision as her eyelids lifted and Melori gave a hoarse sob and began coughing. The taste of blood in her mouth was bright and coppery, and she felt ... fragile, tired. When she tried to move, her head swam and she rolled to her side, retching into the snow, shivering and hurting, but not dead, not yet. Why wasn't she dead? She remembered plunging downward toward the stones below, unable to stop the fall ...

"Finally," Morrigan's voice was terse and Melori turned to find the other woman looking down at her, pale and grim. Relief eased the lines of her mouth when she focused more clearly, and the witch smiled. "I had some trouble retrieving you. Though you were not as badly injured as I feared, your body seemed to think otherwise - not entirely surprising, considering what you put it through."

"I ... fell," Melori said trying to remember how to form words and finding it difficult. "I'm not dead."

"Despite all your efforts to effect such a fate, you are not,"

"Morrigan?" Melori asked, confused. "How?"

"I am sometimes able to take other shapes, as you recall," Morrigan answered, lifting her hands away from where, Melori realized, her armor had been loosened, which explained the cold creeping over her skin. "I had not the strength to become a dragon, of course, or you would not have fallen all the way to earth. But having already flown to ground, I was able to slow your descent ... if only just enough. You were not out long, but the shock of the fall was too much."

"I ... don't remember," Melori answered, finding it was possible to sit up. "Where are the others?"

"As far as I know, they are nearby and survived the descent," the other mage answered, sitting back with a pained wince of her own. "I hope they are well, as I am unable to summon enough magic to do more than cure a sunburn at the moment."

Melori laughed and groaned, pressing her hands to her face. "So, it's over?"

"If you mean, did the Inquisitor put an end to that grasping darkspawn pretender, then yes. I believe the task is done," Morrigan answered, standing slowly, her arm tight across her waist. "I will make my slow way toward the path down, I think."

* * *

The light was beginning to break over the Frostbacks as Melori shuffled between the remnants of towers and broken pieces of masonry, shattered nearly beyond recognition now. She found Solas standing alone amidst the destruction, his shoulders bowed and his hands fisted at his sides. She limped cautiously forward through bits of broken pavement, snow, and ice until she came up beside him.

"Solass?" Melori asked, very quietly. He looked at her, the shadows in his eyes deep with a kind of hopeless sorrow that was hard to bear. She looked away and down at the blackened, broken thing on the ground in front of him and caught her breath. It was shattered, the pieces sundered and useless.

"The orb," he said, eyes closing for a moment. She thought he seemed as fragmented as the artifact lying at his feet and reached a hand out to touch his arm.

"You're leaving." She knew the truth of it as she said it aloud, recognized the resolution in his bearing. Melori found herself wiping tears away. "I don't wish you to go."

"_Ir abelas, ma falon_," he said softly. "It is not my intention to cause you pain."

"What of yours?" Melori answered, staring at him. "This ... this thing you plan to do. What it will do to you? How you can bear it?"

"_Halam'shivanas_," he replied, lips crooking into a bitter half-smile that hurt her heart to see, it was so full of self-mockery. "It is mine to repair."

"Is there nothing that will dissuade you?" She asked, trying to blink the tears back, but they refused to obey. "_Ma melava halani, Solas._ Surely I can help you in return? We can find a different path?"

"You do not know what you are offering, _ma falon,_" he answered, shaking his head, his face falling.

Melori paused, reached into the pouch at her belt, fingers finding the well-worn, lovingly carved figure and the memories it brought with it. She was no longer the lonely child in the Circle Tower who needed the reminder that someone somewhere loved her. "You can't go alone, you know."

He turned his gaze on her then, mouth twisting. "And who would you send with me?"

She reached for his hand, felt the strength of it as well as the way he almost shied away, and held tightly, pressing the figure into his palm. "I found this among my things in the Archive. My father made it when I was very small. When they gave me to the Templars, he ... he told me to be clever as a wolf and pressed this into my hands. I think he considered me the price F_en'Hare_l demanded for protecting my family," her voice caught for a moment, and she met his eyes, frowning. "I expect you to return it. In person."

"Melori ..." he began, then hesitated, staring down at the small wolf before closing his hand around it. "_Ma serranas."_

When he had gone, she bent slowly, like a very old woman against the tide of stiffening bruises, and picked up the pieces of the orb, wishing she could see better to gather all the fragments. It would not be hard to find the site again to search for remnants, of course. Not with the giant mosaic of Mythal, of all figures, in the center of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Perhaps Dagna would come with her next time.

* * *

Dawn was breaking over the mountains as Melori made her way down the long road between the Temple ruin and Haven. The others had filed along ahead, almost everyone nursing some wound or bruise from the fight against Corypheus. Morrigan was walking along nearby, the two mages both too drained and injured to do more than pace quietly along, pausing to rest here and there. Along the way they passed by soldiers and scouts, some coming, some going, and Melori peered at each one through the early morning half-light in the hopes of seeing a particular familiar face.

"You may leave me behind, if you wish to search for him more thoroughly," Morrigan offered, as they climbed up the ridge and paused, panting, to look down on the river below.

"I cannot leave you," Melori answered, trying to catch her breath against the cold. "Really. I _cannot_. The pace we're going is about my limit at present."

"After all we've been through, I am surprised we can move at all," Morrigan said, leaning against a nearby tree. "You were very nearly dead a few hours ago, and I was not far behind. One wonders what will happen next."

"Hopefully? Nothing of significance for a few days at least." Melori gave the other mage a long look. "It doesn't feel as though you've brought the next Age down upon us quite yet."

"Is that what Kieran told you?" his mother shook her head then winced, though her lips curved a little. "I cannot _imagine_ what he means."

"Of course not," Melori rolled her eyes. Not that she'd expected Morrigan to actually respond with anything other than a dodge. "At least we're alive?"

"Small favors, yes," Morrigan nodded. "It is survival that counts. Everything else is meant to achieve that goal."

They rested for together for several minutes, Morrigan perched on an abandoned crate while Melori sat on the ground, her back against a boulder, watching the other scouts and soldiers as they moved past. She was so tired that their faces were beginning to blur, and her head drooped forward, only to snap up again at the sound of her name on the path behind them.

"There you are!" Dorian said, smiling broadly as he, Illiam, and Lieutenant Greer jogged up the hill. Somehow the Tevinter mage managed to look ridiculously together, despite a black eye and a bandaged arm. He turned as they approached, calling back behind him. "They're here! We've found them!"

"We were hardly lost," Morrigan muttered, though Melori wasn't paying attention. She was too busy grabbing hold of Dorian and hauling herself upright by way of his belt and the leather pieces strapped across his chest, to which she held tightly as she met his eyes. "Where ..."

"Just behind us looking for you, actually," Dorian answered before she could finish, one of his brows lifting as she clung to his clothes. "You should have been born with a tail."

"Dorian," She leaned her head against his chest. "I think I need a moment."

"There there," he patted her shoulder and glanced back at Illiam, shaking his head. "This is what happens when you travel south of the Waking Sea. I've become a nursemaid to the Fereldens."

"If you mean the Commander," Greer said. "They found your staff in the ravine and he's been in a fair state since. Shall I go find him for you?"

"But the ravine is almost all the way back at the Temple," Melori protested.

"I don't mind, my Lady," the Lieutenant smiled. "Least I could do, really. If you go down to the bridge to wait, there are supplies there, and it's warmer. I'll make sure we hurry."

* * *

Too anxious to sit, she paced the bridge, moving from one side to the other and back again. Dosed by Dorian with healing potions the moment they'd all arrived on the bridge, she was feeling a little better – less in pain and more awake, anyway. Not that her entire body wasn't going to be black and blue in the morning, if it wasn't already.

Morrigan sat next to a fire just inside the open gate, a bowl of soup in her hands while she waited for Dorian and Illiam to return with the horses. She'd given up trying to make Melori eat at this point, simply sighing and seeing to her own needs. Melori walked between the gates on either side of the bridge, fretting and impatient. How long could it take to go from the hill to the Temple and back again? Her hands twisted together. Could they have run into trouble along the way - a remnant demon, perhaps?

A group of people were heading toward the gate, sliding a little down the slick road in their robes. She saw Raelyn at the head of the group, a broad smile crossing her face when their eyes met. Melori's breath whooshed out at the sight of them and she started forward, laughing when the Chantry sister stepped forward and took her hands and looked her over.

"Oh, don't you look a sight," the woman said, her expression a mixture of alarm and relief as she took in the blood, mud, and bruises. "How are you still standing?"

"Healing potions, primarily," Melori answered then squeaked as she was caught in a firm hug that was both painful, but very welcome. "I'm so glad to see you."

"I was certain you'd be dead, next I heard," Raelyn smiled, brushing the hair out of Melori's eyes in a motherly fashion. "I'm glad the Maker's seen fit to keep you alive."

"Thank you! I can't say I'm disappointed about the living part," Melori laughed, turning to point toward where Morrigan sat, the witch looking a little alarmed at the horde of Chantry sisters headed her way. "There's a fire on the bridge and food, too, if you're hungry."

They filed past, one by one, and she found herself feeling happier at the sight of them, healthy and alive, and some of the tension drained away. She watched them bustle around Morrigan for a moment, laughing when the witch turned to lift a brow in her directions. Greer walked past, tipping his helmet with a crooked smile as he joined the scholars around the fire, and Melori frowned, saw Morrigan looking behind her with something of a smug expression, and she turned slowly on her heel.

* * *

The staff in Cullen's hand looked strangely out of place, she thought, feeling as though she were seeing him for the first time. It was easy to forget how tall he was, how his eyes always seemed a little haunted, worried about everything and everyone around him. The look he gave her now left her frozen in place – not so much uncertain as overwhelmed, teetering on the edge of a precipice that yawned wide at her feet. She wasn't certain she could cross it on her own.

A few short steps between them and he crossed it for her, brushing her hair out of her face with gentle fingers. "Melori?"

"I have your letter," she said, feeling tongue tied and almost afraid to meet his eyes. Her fingers reached into her still half-loosened armor and she pulled out the crumpled, bloodied piece of parchment and wondered how it had got so dirty. "I was going to wait for you. But things became… a bit insane."

"A bit …" He shook his head, and she found herself suddenly lifted off her feet, one of his arms around her waist, the other in her hair as he found her lips with his. Winding her arms around his neck as he kissed her, Melori curled a hand into his ruddy hair and sighed, not caring if her future bruises were aching at the tight grip or the armor pressed against her chest. For the first time in days, she felt herself relaxing.

"You're safe," He breathed into her hair. "Maker help me, you're safe. I've been watching the road, searched the Archive, and the ruin for you. When they found your staff, we searched the ravines, as well. And then someone said you were at the battle ... I thought I'd lost you," his voice caught, unsteady. "They said you fell."

"I did," she answered, "Morrigan saved me."

"I must thank her," he murmured, lifting his head to look down at her. "You're hurt?" He asked, eyes tracing over the dried blood and bruises.

"Nothing that won't mend," Melori whispered. "I couldn't let a small thing like Corypheus stop me from answering that letter."

"Such a _little_ _thing_," he laughed, relieved and fierce at the same time. "I'm not letting you out of my sight again. Too many bad things happen when you're alone. I'll chain us together if I must and you'll never be rid of me."

"I don't want to be rid of you," Melori admitted, tears falling down her face. "I thought I could ignore it ... that I could go on without you, but I _can't_. I thought if I didn't say it, I wouldn't ... I wouldn't feel it. But that only made it worse. I thought I was going to die and I realized I'd never said it."

"Said what?" he asked, leaving kisses along her brow, and down the curve of her cheek. It was distracting in the most delicious way, but Melori focused and made sure she spoke clearly.

"I love you."

Cullen stopped abruptly, eyes warm and golden in the bright morning light as he studied her. Melori thought she felt his breath catch and then he said, in a voice that trembled as though he were praying. "That is one of the things I wanted to tell you, that I ought to have said a long time ago. I love you, and it would have been my fault had I lost you. You would not have been here, had I not been an-"

"Say it again?" She asked, interrupting him. "I don't care about all the rest, especially considered it was my fault, _clearly_ my fault. Just ... I'd rather hear the other words. You already apologized in the letter."

He'd never smiled like that before that she could recall, never with that glint of happiness and relief in his eyes, and when he said it again, and again, and again between kisses, she believed him and did not notice when it began to snow, or when Dorian and Illiam brought the horses, or ...

"If the two of you are finished declaring your undying affection, I don't suppose I could request your assistance? _My_ one love is still in Skyhold and I dare say he wonders where his mother has gone."

* * *

.

NOTE:_ It's not over yet. Do not fear!_


	54. Chapter 54

NOTE: If you want the unexpurgated version with the sexy bits still in, please take  
thyself to archive of our own users / Reithe where there is a listing of my fics.  
The version of A Pocketful on AO3 is the NSFW version. 3 It's not a huge difference  
but it's there. I think it's safe enough now, but if you want to skip it anyway, just in  
case, don't read the second story section : )

.

* * *

.

"_I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.  
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.  
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day  
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps."_  
~ Pablo Neruda

.

* * *

The night they arrived at Skyhold, a few days later, there was a celebration that began in the Great Hall, but which eventually spilled out into the courtyard and tavern. Laughter and music filled every space and, even after the Inquisitor and Josephine fled to the tower, people lingered at the tables, eating and talking, remembering their adventures and their losses along the way. It was a quiet evening and, though some were drinking, Melori felt more inclined to enjoy the atmosphere and the nearness of friends.

Melori found herself sitting at with her back to the wall, listening as Varric spun a story and leaning against Cullen's arm as the hours ticked away, sleepy with too much food and from the long ride along the valley. As the evening had worn down, the guests and diplomats had gone to bed, leaving only Inquisition folk. She could hear Dennett over near the fire, laughing at a story Scout Harding was telling, and Greer was sitting with the Chargers, half in his cups, his cheeks red as he slapped his thigh and asked for more.

The closeness made the lack of certain faces all the more noticeable, she thought. Caro would have been in someone's lap at this point, grinning like a fiend while she knocked back drinks, face red beneath pale hair. Hugh would be laughing and toasting along with everyone else, dark hair glinting in the firelight. The cat … well, the cat hadn't been what he'd seemed, had he? Still, she thought restlessly, she missed who she'd thought him to be. "All right there?" Cullen asked, eyes bright and face a little flushed from all the ale he'd had throughout the night. There'd been a lot of toasts while the Inquisitor was with them.

Melori missed that part, thankfully, having been cornered by several of the Orlesian guests who wanted to know just what, exactly, a rabbit was doing with the Commander and why did it have to be in public? She'd tried to excuse herself, but one of them grabbed her arm with a vice-like talon and she'd not wanted to cause an incident with Orlais in the middle of a celebration. Somewhere toward the end of the toasts, Dorian appeared at her elbow and gallantly extricated her from the horde of women, tossing, "I'm afraid the Commander prefers elegant ears and a pretty face to masks and viper tongues" over his shoulder to a round of outraged gasps.

"I'm all right," she answered Cullen's question. "Though I think I'm going to run down to the study for a bit of air."

"Mmm," he murmured, lips curving in a way that made her flush. "Perhaps I'll join you."

Melori made a slightly incoherent sound in response, wondering how in all of Thedas the man could still turn her into mush with a sideways glance, and slid back her chair. She stepped out into the aisle between the tables and headed for the door into the hall by Josephine's office. Along the way, someone called Cullen's name and he stopped to talk to them, so she stepped down into the stair and waited.

* * *

A few minutes later, he slipped around through the doorway where he stood for a moment before giving her an unrepentant grin. Melori found herself arrested by the shadows playing across his face, giving his eyes a playful, if hungry gleam, not unlike the look he wore when he was winning a chess match.

"Now," he began, slowly walking down the steps toward her. "For two days you've either been asleep, or we've been on horseback."

"I'd had a rather difficult time of it," she protested, laughing and backing down the steps away from him. "I don't know if I like the look in your eye, Ser," Melori teased.

"That might be because I feel I've been neglecting you," he answered, dropping down another couple of steps, his hand on the rail as he closed in on her. Melori bit her lip, her back fetching up against the wall, and he chuckled, tilting her chin up with his fingers. "I do like to be attentive to my duties."

"Oh? I'm just a duty, am I?" she murmured, arching a brow at him. "A report to be read and analyzed?"

"Intently," he answered, lips a breath from hers, his free hand drifting down the column of her neck to where her jacket and blouse opened, fingers tracing over the swell of her breasts above the top of her bodice. "It wouldn't do to miss any ... important details."

"I ... um ..." She was losing her train of thought, her pulse racing and her head swimming a little. "Troop ... movements?"

"Very important," he muttered, lifting her up and pressing her back against the wall to kiss her, lips dragging against hers. He tasted of ale and cinnamon, and he fumbled a little, breaking out into laughter when he couldn't quite manage the lacing on her bodice, forehead pressed to hers. "If you're planning an in-depth tactical review, this is probably not the best location for it, Commander," Melori whispered when she'd found her breath again.

"You have a point, my Lady Librarian," he replied, laying kisses along the curve of her jaw and down her neck for a moment before turning with her and striding across the space between the study and the stair, kicking the door open with a booted foot. He set her back onto her feet to close it before grabbing her again and attacking her lacings and clasps.

They careened around the room, dropping a glove here, a cuirass there, a tunic on a stack of histories, a gauntlet across a trunk, and then he'd turned her desk chair around and she was pushing him into it, climbing onto his lap and laying her own kisses across his face, her hands sliding through his hair, and down the line of his jaw. He pulled her closer, her knees alongside his hips.

"Just how thorough is this report to be?" She asked, shivering as his mouth traced a line from her collar to her breast. "Per...perhaps I could ... oh! ... mmm ... help you with ... your research?" The last ended on a higher note as his teeth closed over a sensitive point and his tongue slid across the tender surface. Her fingers tightened convulsively into his hair and he moaned, pulling her down tight against him and rocking upward, strong fingers sliding down her back, dragging across her skin.

"I always wish for ... your aid," Cullen said, his voice tight as he exhaled against her skin, letting go of her long enough to reach between them. His lips curved when she moaned and shuddered, half-collapsing against his chest. "Necessary to our success."

He found her ear as he stroked her, tongue sliding along the delicate curve before his teeth bit and his thumb rubbed until she was gasping and sobbing his name. When she stilled, boneless against his chest, he whispered, quite pleased with himself, "All right then?"

Melori lifted her head, blowing a tangled red curl out of her eyes , and said, very carefully, "And after you cause the entire enemy force to melt, what then?"

"Well, then," he answered. "We begin the main offensive."

* * *

Somewhere near dawn they stumbled half-dressed through the kitchens and down past the stables to the wall-walk and into the tower. It took them some time to make it up the ladder to the bed, distracted by various intriguing and silent conversations held entirely in kisses, laughter, and wandering hands. When they finally made it to the bed in the loft, Melori fell asleep across Cullen's chest, his arms draped loose across her back and the blankets pulled over her head against the cool air.

Near midday, she woke to feel his arms constricting around her, hands tightening as his head turned and he began to murmur restlessly. Before she could wake him, he woke himself, breathing heavily and his eyes searching the room in a panic before he realized where he was. At the sight of her he calmed, his head falling back against the pillow, and Melori curled close.

"Want to talk about it?" She asked, reaching up to stroke his cheek.

He shook his head, turning to kiss her fingers. "I'd rather focus on you being here when I wake. I keep remembering that you love me ... and have trouble believing it to be true."

"After last night?" Melori shook her head. "I'll have to work harder to convince you."

"I would not say no to that, though I'm afraid we will have to postpone any further explorations. There is work to do today," he answered, sitting up and stretching. Melori watched the sheets fall to his waist and bit her lip as she admired the view. Following him out of bed, she padded in her bare feet to where her bags were sitting to one side of Cullen's loft.

Finding a suitable pair of leggings to wear for sparring proved difficult. Everything decent was dirty and her regular armor needed a visit to the Undercroft, forcing her to use an older pair. They were a tight fit, given all the muscle and weight she'd gained since joining the Inquisition. The rest was easy enough: a padded tunic over a loose shirt with a belt round the waist to complete the outfit. Though she had a hard time pulling the belt into the most recently used hole.

"I'm getting fatter," she complained to Cullen as she climbed down the ladder into his office. He was dressed more casually than usual, wearing only his shirt sleeves, trousers, and boots while he went over recent reports.

"I'm doing something right, then. You'd grown alarmingly thin when you were ill," he chuckled, tugging her close when she came near enough and kissing her. "Sparring with the knights?"

"Cassandra said I was becoming sloppy and she wanted to correct my form before it gets me killed," Melori nodded, leaning into him. "Are you sure we can't just stay abed all day?"

"I'm afraid not yet," he sighed, tugging on her braid. "We both have far too many things to do before we retire."

"Well, with Corypheus gone, hopefully your duties will ease a little. I know Leliana still has a lot of work for me and she keeps hinting that there might be more yet if the Chantry decides to make her the new Divine," Melori said, stepping away with a sigh. "I'll be back before dinner."

"I won't be far," he smiled, watching her as she headed out the door onto the wall-walk.

* * *

Melori waved as she shut the door behind her, then jogged along the wall toward the tavern. She passed by Bull and Krem, who were beating on one another with staves and laughing uproariously - obviously more than a little drunk still. They paused to wave, Bull tugging on her braid as she passed by. "Finally decided to get out of bed, eh, Ribbons?"

"Had good reason to stay there," she answered, winking over her shoulder at him.

Cassandra was standing next to the training dummies when Melori found her, watching as some of the Templars practiced their swings. Occasionally she would shout out instructions in a clipped, dry tone, and Melori stopped to watch as the armored knights swung their heavy blades at the straw and wood.

"You are ready to practice then?" Cassandra asked.

"Well, you said if I didn't, I would die a horrible, bloody death sooner than later," Melori answered with a grin as she ducked into the sparring ring. "I'd like to avoid that."

It was interesting to feel the differences in the flow of her movements as they practiced, Cassandra pausing things now and then to adjust her stance. Melori wasn't using her magic for this, simply going through the measured motions of different forms. When they fell in to sparring, she found herself fighting to win, not simply to survive - though she knew she had no chance. Still, it was a different perspective than she'd had before in previous sparring matches.

"You are doing better," the Seeker acknowledged when they took a short break. "I was afraid you would lean too heavily on your magic and forget what you learned."

"I admit, fighting in the field is very different from sparring with you," Melori said, leaning against the fence and breathing hard. Cassandra had landed several blows during their previous session and, after the night she'd had, the mage wasn't entirely certain she hadn't worn herself out already. "I usually manage to use what you've taught me through part of the fight, and the rest I'm just ... trying to stay out of the way."

"We will work on that," Cassandra nodded. "Shall we go again?"

"Of course," Melori answered, walking back out to the center of the sparring ring. "Fair warning: I'm already exhausted."

"That is to be expected," the other woman smiled, eyes glinting with amusement.

This time the match was more intense, either because Melori was having a much more difficult time keeping up or because Cassandra had decided to push her to the limit. But, whatever the cause, there was a moment where Melori failed to duck quickly enough and took a blow to the shoulder that sent her to her knees with a cry of pain, her sword falling from numbed fingers.

"Are you all right?" Cassandra asked in alarm, kneeling down next to her.

"F-fine," Melori lied, gritting her teeth. It was fortunate the Seeker had turned the edge away at the last minute, but even the flat of the blade could hurt.

"Come on. We'll have the healers take a look, just to be safe," Cassandra said, grabbing Melori's sword while the elf swayed to her feet. "It was not a light blow."

"No," Melori squeaked. "It wasn't."

"You okay there, Librarian?" Varric caught up with them as they made their way over to the healer's cottage along the wall. Melori, who had been doing her best to look unhurt, flushed.

"Varric ..." Cassandra leveled a glare at him and he chuckled.

"Ooh, now I'm scared," he chuckled. Cassandra led them into the quiet, darkened space and spoke to the healers. Melori spotted Raelyn bustling about the other side of the room, taking drinks to the wounded soldiers lying on beds along the wall. She waved with the hand attached to the arm that wasn't hurting and the Chantry sister gave a happy wave in return.

"Enara!" Raelyn exclaimed. "What have you done to yourself now?"

"Oh ... you know, just sparring in the yard with the Seeker," Melori said, shrugging and then wincing. "Normal everyday things."

"Your version of 'normal' isn't really, you know," Varric drawled as Cassandra returned with the healer, Orila, who made Melori sit down on an empty bed and started peeling back her padded tunic and shirt to see the wounded shoulder. Cassandra excused herself to attend a meeting, so Varric stayed behind, leaning against the wall while Melori explained what had happened.

"We were just sparring," Melori said when Orila gave her a disapproving look. "I didn't move quickly enough and took a hard blow to my shoulder, that's all."

"Are you sure you should be sparring right now?" Raelyn asked. "Not that you shouldn't remain active."

Melori blinked at the Chantry sister, "I'm not sure what you mean? Why shouldn't I be sparring?"

"Well, I thought ... Oh." Raelyn looked over at Orila and drew her aside, speaking rapidly and quietly so the others couldn't hear. A moment later, Raelyn left out the front door and Orila went back to looking at the injured shoulder.

"Don't worry," she said quietly. "It's just a bad bruise. I'll get a poultice for it and you'll be right as rain soon. Raelyn's gone to find one of the healing mages so we can make sure no more damage was done."

"Oh, all right," Melori said, glancing over and shaking her head at Varric. "With my luck, they're going to tell me I have a bad case of the Blight or some such," she muttered, which got her a snort of laughter from Orila.

"Impudent, you are," the other elf said.

"If you had the Blight, you'd be going all pale and spooky about now," He chuckled. "Believe me, I've seen people with the Blight before."

"Well, that's something, isn't it?" Melori laughed.

Raelyn returned a moment later with an irritated Morrigan on her heels. The witch looked around the room with a sniff before turning to Melori and placing her hands on her hips, her brows lifting in surprise. "Oh, 'tis you, is it? Why am I not surprised?"

"I took a blow to the shoulder, that's all," Melori explained. "I'm sure it's fine ..."

"Well, so long as I am not required to resuscitate you yet again, I suppose you will be," Morrigan said slowly.

"When did _that_ happen?" Varric asked, brows lifting.

"At the battle against Corypheus," Melori said defensively. "I'm _fine_. I just ... wasn't for a little while and Morrigan saved me."

"Well, if this good woman is correct," Morrigan drawled, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to Melori. "I may have saved more than just you. At the time it hadn't occurred to me to check. Sit still for a moment."

"I'm not possessed, if that's what you mean," Melori answered, frowning as the other mage held a glowing green hand over Melori's shoulder. The pain eased and she relaxed, feeling not a little confused. "Wouldn't it be easier to just tell me what you _think_ is going on?"

"Ohhhh," Varric said in sudden realization, breaking the tense silence. "Well, I wonder what the Commander's going to think of that?"

"Think of what?" Melori ground out, her temper rising. "I swear, if someone doesn't tell me what is going on ..." It took quite a lot of effort to rein in the magic that tried to escape, sizzling along her fingertips, which she hid in her lap as best she could.

"It is quite simple," Morrigan explained, closing her hand and giving Melori an enigmatic smile. "Sometime around the Arbor Wilds, I would guess, you and the Commander created between you a life which will, undoubtedly, be blessed with the most unruly hair anyone has ever seen."

* * *

.

NOTE: _My version of the surgeon's area is bigger than that tiny space in the corner in Skyhold, btw. In my head, it's deeper and has another floor above it. And curtains. And proper beds. Because the Inquisition isn't exactly wanting for funds. _


	55. Chapter 55

NOTE: _I'm sorry this took a little longer than usual to post. I lost the document file 3 times, and have had to re-write everything. So ... yeah. I'm very sorry that you have had to wait. *hugs*_

* * *

.

… _no matter how much time passes, no matter what  
takes place in the interim, there are some things we  
can never assign to oblivion, memories we can never  
rub away. They remain with us forever, like a  
touchstone._ ~ Haruki Murakami, _Kafka on the Shore_

.

* * *

For the briefest moment, Melori was certain it was a very cruel joke, but the way Morrigan was looking at her, with an expression that seemed both sympathetic and smug, told her otherwise. Her fingers felt strangely cold as she tried to understand what it meant, and the world tilted a little as she found herself climbing slowly to her feet. It felt as though she were floating above herself, as though the world had shrunk to the tiny ball of panic that had begun to spin in the center of her chest.

"Excuse me," she heard herself say as she slid past Varric and toward the door. There was air outside, and light. But there were also Templars sparring in the yard, and the sight of them sent that tight little ball spinning faster, a sharp spike of fear climbing through her chest. She needed a place to sit and think about everything, or someone to hide behind while she did it, far from Templars and Chantries ...

"Why is it no one ever takes good news properly?" Morrigan was muttering behind her.

"Because it isn't good news," Varric answered, his voice quiet. "Kinda wishing Blondie were here - Uh, Librarian? Where are you going?"

Melroi didn't answer and couldn't have told him if she'd tried, her voice was trapped in her chest, slowly merging into that every growing thing in the center of her that was _hurt_. It hurt to breathe. Melori was heading across the yard and up the stairs, taking them two at a time and she crossed through the entry and into the Great Hall, pushing through the doors to the Atrium. For a few seconds she paused there, wishing that Solas would be there to tell her what to do, but the room was empty, the final mural half-finished, and she took the stairs instead.

The alcove was empty, Dorian and Illiam standing across the circular tower while they argued with the upstairs librarian, the one who drove Melori mad with the way he categorized histories and Chantry notes. Today she wanted only the peace and quiet of the books, the steady murmur of scholarly voices, and a corner into which she could sink, the sunlight from Dorian's window hot on her head as it set her bright hair alight. She grabbed a book from the shelf and stared at the cover, and read the title four times before she realized she was holding a copy of Sister Petrice's histories and that there were tear marks on her hands and across the green leather binding.

Voices drifted nearer around the library platform and the over-stuffed chair next to her shifted as a body dropped into it, while Dorian knelt down in front of her, artful fingers brushing her hair out of her eyes.

"Hey, now. Don't cry," Dorian said, lifting the book out of her hand. When he saw it was one of the Chantry sisters, he snorted and tossed the book over his shoulder. "After what I glimpsed in your study last night, I rather expected smug satisfaction, not despair."

Melori choked on a laugh. She looked up to find Dorian smiling at her, dark eyes worried as he glanced between her and Illiam, who was leaning over the arm of the chair. "You ... you caught us out, did you?"

"It was quite inspiring, actually. So, tell me. What's so wrong you've taken to hiding in the library?" He asked. "Discover Cullen has a harem locked in his office? Or has the Queen of Antiva has sent her favorite assassin for your head? Hmm?"

"I was careless. I thought I was being careful, and I was wrong," she answered, nails digging into her knees. She half expected someone to show up in gleaming Templar armor to drag her away to Mother Giselle for a lecture on the proper behavior of mages in captivity. "It's all my fault. If I were still just the LIbrarian, I could hide it, but ... everyone knows what I am now. A pregnant mage is a little hard to hide."

Illiam shifted in the chair next to her and Melori shied away, not wanting to see the utter dismay and disapproval in the other elf's face. But he surprised her by taking her hand and gripping it firmly in his own. He didn't say a word as she clung to his hand, the panic ebbing slightly at the touch.

"But that ... you're with child?" Dorian's expression shifted from worried to confused as he frowned at her. "Isn't this a good thing? Or is it not the Commander's?"

"No! No. It is." She shook her head and swallowed, blinking back tears. "He's the only one I've been with since ... since Hugh. Cullen was a templar. He knows better than I what happens to mages who bear children in the Circles." The thought of telling Cullen brought tears to her eyes, and she felt the panic welling larger in her chest.

"What happens to those mages?" Dorian asked, his expression darkening.

"If the new Divine brings the Circles back, the only thing standing between me and a Circle Tower would be the Inquisitor. They wouldn't allow me to stay with Cullen, not without her aid," Melori said, the words tasting heavy and bitter on her tongue. She reached up to wipe tears from her cheeks. "Worse, the children of mages who are not magical are given to the Chantry. And those with magic go to different circles than those where their parents are. I would lose them _all_. I would lose everything."

That was the fear, the roiling, painful ball in the center of her chest . She'd been safe here, confident that she could survive whatever happened to the Inquisition if she worked hard and they liked her enough. She'd been so happy she'd willed herself to believe it would be all right, despite all the evidence to the contrary. The shock of Morrigan's words had brought her tumbling back to reality.

"Maker ..." Dorian sat back on his heels, staring at her in horror. Melori leaned her head back against the bookshelves as he glanced up at Illiam, who must have confirmed what she'd said, because the Tevinter mage began to curse in Tevene. "And here I thought I'd seen the extent of southern barbarism," he muttered.

"I knew better," she whispered, rubbing at her eyes. "I need to tell Cullen ..." but the very idea of it seemed to throw a switch, and she caught her breath on a sob. "But I can't tell him this. I don't know how ..."

* * *

A cough near the walkway caught their attention and they looked over to find Varric standing in the opening to the alcove, an oddly embarrassed expression on his face. "I thought maybe I should get the Nightingale, considering she's got a good chance of being the next Divine and all," he said. "And, considering she's your boss and the expert in disappearing problems, figured she'd know how to help."

"I will do what I can," Leliana agreed, moving into view beside the dwarf, her arms folded across her chest. Everyone else in the tower had seemingly disappeared and the ravens were louder against the absence of other voices. "You seem very upset for someone who has received such wonderful news."

"Did Varric tell you?" Melori said, letting Illiam pull her to her feet while she wiped at her face with her sleeve as she walked toward the spymaster, shoulders rounded.

"He did," Leliana nodded, watching her with bright blue eyes. "And you are not wrong. A new Divine might reinstate the Circles. She might bring the Templars back. There would be consequences for you and what you've built here in Skyhold, and Cullen would be damaged by his relationship with you, an elf _and_ a mage. Any child you had would be in danger."

"Then what is left? Just ... wait and see what happens and plan my eventual escape into the Wilds?" Melori shook her head. "I remember what it was like in the Ferelden Circle. The mages weren't exactly celibate and sometimes the Templars ...," she swallowed, lips twisting. "The Enchanters tried to help us avoid any accidents, but it didn't always work. Women I knew would come back broken after giving birth to babies stolen from their arms. I was always so careful to avoid that fate."

"The Maker has seen fit to test you," Leliana answered, her tone stern - almost sharp, her eyes narrowing. "You cannot change what others will do, Melori, and no one here can make these choices for you."

"A choice to die when the Templars come for me?" Melori asked, her chin lifting. "That hardly seems a choice."

"Perhaps," Leliana answered, leaning forward. "Are you going to let them take your life away from you? You worked so _hard_ and now this one thing, this very important thing happens and you're going to let them destroy your life? Why _not_ die for it?"

"Now, wait just a minute," Dorian interjected. "Surely we can do _something-_"

"What do you know, Tevinter?" Leliana snapped, turning a cold glare onto him. "This is what it means to be a female mage in Ferelden. I've seen it before. You can't save her from an army of Templars, can you? Will you carry the child for her, too? Or take her to Minrathous where she'll be little better than a slave?"

"I ..." Dorian's lips shut tightly and he sighed, shaking his head.

"The Circles are not yet re-established, you know. You are safe in the Inquisitor's care for now, too," Leliana said, stealing a handkerchief from Dorian's hand and gently wiping the tears from Melori's face, pausing to look the mage in the eyes. "So do not waste all this energy on fear. Be angry! You know what I would do to anyone who tried to do this to me?"

"There are so many answers to that question," Varric muttered, backing away a step.

Leliana laughed softly and kissed Melori in the middle of the forehead, before turning to head back up the stairs. "Think about it."

They all watched her go, Melori clutching the handkerchief in one hand. When she'd disappeared up the stairs, she and Dorian looked at one another and he said, "So, when we murder all the Chantry and all the remaining Templars, shall we wear masks like highwaymen or do we do this as the Inquisition?"

Melori looked upward as one of the Raven's cawed overhead and felt the knot behind her ribs begin to unwind, the pressure in her back and along her spine receding as she thought about Leliana's words.

"I'm not wearing any more masks."

* * *

The shadows were lengthening when Melori finally crossed along the wall-walk to Cullen's tower. At Dorian's urging, she'd gone back to her room and found some of her nicer clothing and had a bath before she made her way over. The loose blouse beneath the short jacket was more comfortable than her usual gear and it had been a while since she'd dressed so casually. The leggings were a little tight and she frowned, wondering how long she had before nothing fit.

At the door to the tower, she hesitated before knocking. While the urge to panic had lessened its grip, fear lingered at her back and she found herself shaking a little as she stepped inside the office, shutting the door behind her. Almost before she could turn around, she found herself enveloped strong arms and held tightly. She wrapped her arms around his waist and sighed, relaxing into the warm strength of him.

"I missed you today," He murmured, a smile in his voice. "And just when I thought you'd disappeared on me, here you are, smelling of Dorian's favorite soap." When she did not immediately answer, he tilted his head and frowned down at her. "Melori?"

"Just hold me a minute more?" She pled, looking up at him with her eyes still a little bloodshot from the crying she'd done earlier. "It's not been the best of days."

"Did something go wrong?" he asked, holding her tightly again, resting his cheek on the top of her head. "I hadn't heard of anything happening today."

"It's not that," Melori answered. "I ... it's a little difficult to explain, actually."

"I see," He said, obviously not understanding at all.

She took a deep breath and turned in his arms, stepping a little away as she reached for his hand, biting her lip as she pulled it to her stomach and used both her hands to press his palm against the very slight swelling there. "I ... I visited the healers today," she said, very slowly. "And Morrigan, too. And ... well. There's a reason my clothes aren't fitting properly anymore."

They stared at one another, his hand pressed snug and warm against her belly, and then Cullen's eyes widened and he sucked in a breath, wordless. Melori watched him, terrified and yet ... not. The feel of him standing so near, of his hands on her body, and she felt suddenly and profoundly certain that nothing would deny her this small moment or any of the others she might experience in the future. When his hand curved over her stomach and his forehead pressed to hers, she sighed out in relief, tears springing to her eyes.

"I ...," he looked for a moment as though his body were about to burst with joy, his eyes lighting as he gazed down at her, and then she saw him remember. Saw his eyes darken as his hand slid into her hair and he pulled her tight against him. "Are you all right?"

"I don't know yet," She admitted. "Are you?"

"I'm incredibly happy," he exhaled, kissing her hair, her forehead, her lips.

"Are you _certain_?" Melori's voice trembled, her fingers tightening against his back. "What if ... what if they try to ..." she couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence, but she didn't have to. Cullen had seen even more than she had in his days with the Circles, especially in Kirkwall.

"They are welcome to try," he answered, jaw tightening. "but they will not get far."

* * *

For the next few days Melori worked in the library and in her Study. Cullen traveled down to the camp in the valley as his soldiers returned from the Arbor Wilds, which left her on her own. Despite her fears, no one from the Chantry nor any of the Templars approached her and Melori felt a sense of relief, though she did not let down her guard. She stayed in her study, for the most part, researching the orb and studying the fragments she'd retrieved with meticulous attention, though she kept it a private study, putting them away when anyone but Dorian was nearby.

Finally, frustrated by the lack of information in her books, Melori gathered paper, ink, and a pens and made her way to Morrigan's usual haunt in the gardens.

"Well, this is a surprise," the witch smiled when Melori poked her head around the door where the eluvian was kept. "I was beginning to believe you had deemed me a pariah."

"Never," Melori laughed, walking into the room and shutting the door behind her. "I was ... adjusting to reality, so to speak. I am sorry. I can honestly say I was not thinking straight that day."

"Understandable." Morrigan turned back to her contemplation of the eluvian, "Varric told me something of the situation for Circle Mages. I'd know it was bad, but that ..." she looked over her shoulder at Melori. "If you should wish to escape, I know a few places where no one would ever find you."

"Through there, you mean?" Melori's brows lifted. "I admit, I would be curious about that no matter the situation."

"It is how I hid when Kieran was young. In places my mother would not find me, though that is not now an option, is it?" She sighed and shook her head, turning her back to the eluvian. "I suppose you came here for some purpose, given all you carry?"

"I did," Melori answered. "You have access to information long lost. Much of it things I would never otherwise be able to know. I thought, especially now when the future is looming over my head like an axe, I should ask if you would share some of that knowledge with me? At least, so I can write down anything you and the voices are willing to share. It would be private. Something to sate my curiosity, really, and to help me understand what I see when I'm wandering among the ruins."

"So you plan to continue, even now?" The witch's brow lifted and she smiled. "I am glad of that. What sort of questions would you ask of me?"

Laughing, Melori opened her journal and turned it so Morrigan could see the list. "There are eight pages of these."

"My, my," Morrigan shook her head and dropped down on the bench standing against a wall, half-covered by a dust sheet. "I suppose I could indulge you for a time. I'm not certain I have the stamina for _eight pages_ of questions, however. You will owe me for this, you know."

"Gladly. You've helped me so much already," Melori acknowledged, grinning with anticipation. "Now ... how long have we got today?"

"Oh, you want to start immediately?"

"Well, you're going to leave eventually, aren't you? I've got only a few months before either you're gone or I'm too running from Templars to ask," Melori replied, organizing her things around her. "Now, what can they tell me about the nature of the gods?"

* * *

.

NOTE: _We're almost to the end, my friends. Two more chapters left. I do have plans for a continuation, but before that I have another story coming up. :) _


	56. Epilogue

.

* * *

It was warm so near the border of Tevinter, the grasses blowing restlessly as Melori stepped along the broken remnants of an ancient village. She tucked a flyaway bit of hair behind her ear and glanced over her shoulder to check the sleeping infant at her back, tucked safely into a reinforced sling, curling gold-red hair peeking out into the sunlight. Melori smiled and turned back to her study of the ancient site, studying her surroundings with a narrowed gaze.

According to Leliana's records, this is where Solas had claimed to have lived - a centuries-old elven ruin on the edge of an ancient forest. When he'd disappeared, the Nightingale had sent her agents deeper, and Melori had spent countless nights searching for the name of the village in her books and papers, finally finding it in Dorian's collection. It was name so old only a fragment remained, misremembered even in ancient Tevinter mysteries. And, once found, she'd waged quite the campaign to be the one to study it.

It had been no easy thing convincing Cullen to let her travel here, not with the baby so young yet. They'd reached a compromise when the Inquisitor suggested he go with her in order to check on troops they had in the area. It had been a strange sort of honeymoon, with a small baby and a group of soldiers, agents, and scholars always nearby, but she'd seen the way he smiled along the journey, happy simply to all be together.

The path through the ruin turned toward a shrine on the edge of the village, faded and worn away with time and weather, but she thought she recognized the shape of it - a sitting wolf with its head thrown back as it howled to the sky. There would be another nearby, made of darker stone, but it was either destroyed or worn away entirely now. Melori frowned and touched the warm, sunlit rock, fingers brushing against the remnant of a carved spiral. As she stared at it, a flicker of light caught her attention, and she knelt, seeing a small pile of debris at the base of the shrine.

A small bundle, wrapped in leaves and tied with leather thongs, was hidden there and Melori caught a breath when she saw her name painted along the edge of one of the leaves in faded gold script. It had only been there for a few months at best, hidden, she thought with a sudden pang of loss, where he'd known she would find it. Carefully, she loosened the thongs and unwrapped the small package, fingers trembling when she found a lacquered box inside. There was a whisper of ghostly voices as she released the latch and lifted the lid, and her head bowed, hot tears falling from her eyes.

"I told you to give it back to me in person," she whispered.

* * *

The walk back to camp gave her time to wipe her eyes dry. The baby was quiet, still sleeping, and when they reached him, Cullen wasted no time relieving her of the baby, who woke and cooed as he held her, little fists waving in the air. He smiled at that, though his eyes were concerned as he studied Melori's face.

"Bad news?" he asked.

She shook her head, "I don't know. He was here, so I'm certain this is the place, but he's gone now. Disappeared like a wolf in the mists. "I had hoped, I think, to learn something ... more."

"Do you think he's dangerous?" Cullen asked, reaching to pull her nearer, his arm around her waist.

Melori leaned against him and shrugged lightly. "All of us are dangerous. If I knew what it was he intended to do, I could answer that better. But I have no idea.'

.

~ The End ~

* * *

.

.

.

NOTE: _Thank you to everyone who has read this entire thing! You have all been amazing with the comments and support. I can't quite express just how much it's meant to me to see how interested everyone has been in something I wrote! O.o If I could hug you all, I would!_

NOTE II: _For the curious, the baby's name is Caro. ;)_

NOTE III: _I have another fic on the way that I have to do first, but then I may revisit Melori in another story. I'd like to see what happens with the DLC first, though. So it may be a little bit. _

_HUGS TO YOU ALL!_

_._

_See, KC? I didn't kill EVERYONE :D_


End file.
